


Never Did Run Smooth

by MagicMarker



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (For OCs), (for some activities), Angst, Archery, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Loss of Limbs, Masturbation, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sibling Banter, Sibling Bonding, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Swordplay, Thorin's a grump, Vaginal Fingering, Vanilla, Wedding Night, Weddings, but kind ones, but not too much, literally tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Orcs retreat, Sigrid finds herself named Lady of Dale, eldest daughter of the King Lord Bard.  In just one day her responsibilities have grown from two siblings to an entire city of incredibly vulnerable, newly homeless people.  Fili is pleasantly surprised to find that he, his brother, and his uncle all survived the Battle of the Five Armies and are able to return to the Lonely Mountain with the rest of the Dwarves.  Yet as neighboring Dale rebuilds alongside Erebor, Thorin’s diplomacy (or lack thereof) leaves Fili disappointed and frustrated.</p><p>They keep bumping into each other, by coincidence at first, and sibling encouragement eventually.  Can they afford to let their affection for each other grow when there is so much work to do?  It’s not easy building two new kingdoms at once.  But then, the course of love never did run smooth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amputations and Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> I mucked about with their ages, a bit. Tilda is about the same age but Sigrid turns twenty-two over the course of the fic. In book canon Bain is older than Sigrid but he looks so much younger in the films, so I’m purposefully leaving it ambiguous, keeping their ages close together. 
> 
> Please note that this chapter contains descriptions of post-war triage gore.

“I need some bandages over here!”

“Bring me some calendula and poppy right away!”

“Who has my good saw?”

The general sounds of exhausted, yet dedicated, triage medics filled the air as Sigrid made her way among the tents and cook fires. Two weeks after that horrible battle and the field in front of the Lonely Mountain was still covered in people - alive, or dead, or somewhere in between. After the Orc retreat, the Men, Elves, and Dwarves made quick work of any stragglers. Yet work was not completely finished. There were still many wounded; Thranduil, Thorin and Dáin, and Bard had all agreed to a central triage center at the river bank.

Well, central enough, Sigrid thought, as she struggled to find where she needed to go. People had more or less segregated themselves, and as water was the most important factor at the moment, what had resulted was a two-mile-long camp along the bank of the river, with the Dwarves nearest the Mountain and the Men nearest Dale. Thranduil had somewhat predictably brought his elves to the other side of the river, which Sigrid didn’t mind at all. The two elves that had tracked the Orcs to her house seemed to be outliers - the rest of their kind seemed to abhor Men and Dwarves alike, and at this point she could really do without a bunch of giant sticks-in-the-mud looking down their noses at her.

“Oi, lass, if y’aren’t doin’ nothin, come do me a favor,” a man called to her from the open flap of a dingy yellowing tent.

“Um--” Sigrid began to protest, but he’d already disappeared back inside. She scurried after him, pausing at the entrance to let her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the canvas.

A tall blonde man lay nearly unconscious, cradling his arm which now ended at the elbow. The rest of his limb lay cast off on the floor underneath the table on which the man lay. The one who had called her over gestured to it as he began crushing some herbs in a bowl. “Will you take care of that for me?”

She stared for a moment. “What-- the arm? How??”

“Eh, just chuck it into one of those fires they’re taking care of the Orcs with,” he answered, not even looking at her. He poured some water into the bowl and mixed the concoction steadily, adding a few pinches of things as he went.

Sigrid waited for a moment, not sure if he was serious. However when no additional order came, she pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “All right…” she murmured to herself and knelt. The grass had been trampled to a yellowing, muddy mess that stuck to the knees of her leggings and ground into the creases of her palms. Quick as she could, Sigrid reached under the table and grabbed the severed limb by the wrist. A glance at the medic told her that she was already forgotten, so she rose and left the tent without a word.

The arm felt odd in her hands. It was still somewhat warm, and heavy. Bits of grass and mud were stuck in the hairs and under the fingernails. A sickly sweet odor rose from a terrible gash down the forearm that was a right mess of green and yellow and black. No wonder it had had to come off. Sigrid couldn’t help her nose from wrinkling though, and as she drew closer to the nearest pyre her steps quickened. The smells coming off the fire were horrible, and the sooner she was done with this, the sooner she could get back to Da and deliver the message she’d been sent with.

The wall of heat was so intense, Sigrid couldn’t get very close to the pyre. She had to hurl the arm with all her strength just to make sure it would stay. Even so, bits and pieces of who-knew-what bounced and rolled around. She didn’t stay to watch.

~*~

Sigrid crossed into the Dwarves’ section of the camp and headed straight for the largest tent she could find. Odds were that was where Dáin and her Da would be meeting, as rumor had it Dáin had taken over while Thorin healed. Before entering the tent she took a quick inventory of herself. She was filthy.

“Well,” she shrugged, “Nothing doing.” So she rubbed her hands on her leggings. “That will have to be good enough.”

She found that her eyes did not have to adjust at all in here; the Dwarves had set up lanterns, crystals, and mirrors which kept the light bright as day. Sure enough, Bard and Dáin were there, standing, to her surprise, next to a very awake Thorin Oakenshield. He sat propped up against a stump someone had rolled over, expression as stormy as ever while her da looked annoyed. To Thorin’s side lay the brothers that had stayed in her home before the dragon came. Sigrid frowned to see Kíli in much the same state as she’d first met him. Would the poor Dwarf ever catch a break? And now Fíli as well, who had stayed so faithfully by his brother’s side and risked his life to protect her as--

“Sigrid? What brings you by here?” Bard’s question interrupted her thoughts and she blinked rapidly.

“Da,” she smiled and approached the makeshift council. “I brought news for you from Dale.”

Dain nodded sharply at her and Thorin just… stared. It occurred to her now that she was approaching the King Under The Mountain. “Um…” How do you address someone who crawled out of your toilet, but now wore his grandfather’s crown upon his brow?

“Thorin, you remember my daughter, Sigrid. And Sigrid, this is Dáin Ironfoot, son of Náin, Lord of the Iron Hills.” The formal language sat uncomfortably in her father’s mouth, his gestures stilted.

Sigrid smiled again and gave a clumsy cursty. “My… Lords,” she guessed. Better than nothing. Probably.

The Dwarves nodded at her but remained silent. Her father looked between them for a beat, then ushered her aside. “What is it, Sig? And where are your brother and sister? Not here, I hope.”

“No, Da, Bain is helping Mr. Potts put up shelves and Tilda is playing with Cammy and Gemma. Mrs. Potts said she would look after them.” She glanced over her father’s shoulder at the Dwarves who made no effort to look as if they were not listening. “Mr. Potts told me that he and Mr. Wilkinson saw Nobby Dibbler trying to stop up the river by the old mill, even though Mr. Wilkinson wants to try to get it running again. They want you to come down and tell him to stop.”

Bard sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye, I’ll head back down in a bit. We’re just finishing up here. Go back down to Dale and see if you and Bain can’t get some work done at the house, hear?” He gave her a quick hug and kissed her forehead, then pushed her gently away. “I’ll be home by sundown.”

“Yes, Da,” she replied. “M’Lords,” she added in a louder voice, with another quick bend of the knees.

As she turned to leave, she spared one last glance towards the brothers on the ground. Kíli was still sleeping fitfully, his brow furrowed in either nightmare or pain. However Fíli had awoken sometime after she’d entered; he was watching her, though he could barely keep his eyes open. The corner of his mouth picked up in a crooked smile and it was all Sigrid could do not to look around the tent. No, she knew there wasn’t anyone else here. She smiled back at him and ducked her head, all but running out.

He seemed to remember her after all.

~*~

A week later and Sigrid had had enough. Ever since Da had killed the dragon, everyone wanted him to be the new King, or Mayor, or Master, or any number of other ruling titles they could come up with. And as such, they all wanted to make a new, better impression on him. People were coming around the house day after day, offering to rebuild this wall or lay down this floor or install those windows or thatch the roof. It was all very nice and generous, but no one would let her do anything for herself.

After Sigrid was shooed away from doing work in her own damned kitchen, she gave up for good and headed out towards the camp. Someone would be looking after her siblings. That was her whole problem anyway: too many helpers. Blessed peace and quiet finally came to her in the short distance between the town and the triage encampment. Behind her lay the nascent city of Men and its yet-leaderless chaos; ahead, hundreds of wounded or dying, and those frantic few trying to save them.

At least when she was last at the camp, that man hadn’t cared if she was the Bowman’s daughter. Instead of feeling useless she’d felt like she was involved, helping people get their lives back together rather than watching everyone do it for her. Well why not return and lend a hand?

Just as she thought, it didn’t take any time at all before she was put to work. It seemed no matter where she was, someone needed something. Sigrid boiled bandages and served food and water. Before long the medics trusted her to rinse wounds with hot wine, garlic and thyme, make a pain-relieving tea out of poppy leaves, and wrap injuries of all shapes and sizes. When she finally thought there was a break in the action, Sigrid had barely made it to the river’s edge when she heard the shouts.

“No! Y’aren’t takin mah leg, it’s going to be fine. Yeh jus’ gotta give it time to heal!”

A tall woman and a Dwarf were almost wrestling with the younger Dwarf who clearly was not going to heal any time soon. “Come on, now, Gror, everything will be fine. I’m sure someone in Thorin’s crew will be able to fashion you somethin. Losin yer leg won’t kill yeh, it’s keepin it that will.”

The fight went out of the Dwarf’s eyes and he pushed red hair out of his face. “All right. Git to it.” At this, the two medics got to work assembling what they needed and Sigrid looked on in fascination.

Finally the woman noticed her and gestured for her to come over. “You’re the Bargeman’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sigrid answered warily, “But I’ve been helping here all day.”

“Aye, I can see that. I’m Caryl, that’s Borin,” she stuck out a hand for Sigrid to shake. “Why don’t you get some clean bandages and something for Gror to bite down on? It’s gonna take a while to get through thick Dwarf legs.”

Indeed it did. Caryl and Borin were working as fast as they could, taking turns on the saw while Sigrid held Gror’s hand and later, leaned all her body weight over his shoulders to keep him still. “I can’t believe you’re still conscious,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“I could say the same of you, lass,” a voice came from behind her. She craned her neck to try to see, but a particularly anguished cry from Gror brought her attention right back to him.

“Almost there, Gror, the worst is over now,” she murmured as she watched Borin finally get through the limb. It was a lie, of course; Borin returned moments later with a hot iron to cauterize the wound, which set off a whole new bout of anguished writhing. As Caryl sewed up the stump, Sigrid relaxed her hold on Gror and sat back in the mud. She pushed her frizzy curls out of her face, then rested her head on her knees. Her leggings were filthy again, she noticed, from her knees all the way down to her feet. Fantastic. She’d have to soak them for days now.

“Prince Fíli! So glad to see you walking about, and after just three weeks!” Borin’s voice shocked her out of her reverie.

Sigrid’s eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet. Sure enough there stood the blond Dwarf with the silly mustache. He looked somewhat pale, and smaller than she remembered. Though that could also have just been that he was no longer wearing five layers of clothing and weapons. Instead he was dressed in simple breeches and a tunic, and she could see thick bandages around his chest and shoulder. And he was a prince? She tried to put it together without giving too much away. Thorin was now King Under the Mountain, so Fíli must be his… nephew? Surely she’d remember if he were his son. Someone had to have explained this to her at some point--

“Thank you, Borin,” Fíli answered graciously, though he did not take his eyes off Sigrid. “Please don’t let me keep you from your patient. I merely wanted to say hello to the Lady Sigrid.”

“I’m not--” Sigrid stopped herself. Actually, she supposed she was. If they truly did make her da the Lord of Dale, King of Dale, whatever, then that would be the next logical step. “Um. Everything all right then, Borin? Caryl?” But they waved her off, engrossed in wrapping up and cleaning off. She looked back to Fíli, whose crooked smile was only exaggerated by the braids on each side of his mouth. “Er… Hello, Prince Fíli. Very kind of you to stop by. If you don’t mind I really ought to go to the river and wash up a bit.”

“May I accompany you?” Fíli responded. “I was headed there myself when I saw you at work.” He paused, then added, “Shouldn’t you be in Dale, with your sister and brother?”

Sigrid heaved an exaggerated sigh, heading away from the tents. “For pity’s sake-- They’re fine. Honestly, this is the most at-peace I’ve been in weeks. People are so eager to help the _Lord of Dale_ that they’re more of a bother than a blessing, and that includes keeping eyes on Bain and Tilda. Sure, I haven’t had to cook my own dinner in a week, but my house doesn’t even feel my own. I haven’t had but two seconds to myself since you lot came up through my bloody toilet!!” Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes bulged. “Oh shit-- Sorry! Sorry sorry. I-- Sorry. I shouldn’t have cussed, I shouldn’t’ve even--”

Fíli touched her elbow gently. “It’s all right. I rather know the feeling.”

At the river’s edge, Sigrid knelt down in the sand right where the water could lap at her knees. She dutifully scrubbed sand between her hands and up her arms, raising goosebumps wherever the cool water touched. There was a heavy sound behind her as Fíli plopped down as well. Once her hands were clean to her satisfaction, she sat back out of the water and scrubbed at the mud on her leggings. “Da’s never going to let me out of the house again at this rate. This is the second pair I’ve ruined in as many weeks.”

“Aye, I’ve been wonderin’ about that. Why’s it always your knees?” He grinned back at her puzzled expression. “Your knees were dirty the last time I saw you, in Uncle’s tent.”

Sigrid stared. “Prince Fíli, I don’t know what you mean to imply by that statement!  The truth of the matter is I had to crawl under a table to get what was left of a poor man’s arm and throw it away.”

Silence. Then, “You’re serious?”

“Aye. A man had his arm off, just like Gror, and some man asked me to take care of it, so I did. I threw it on one of the pyres they were using for the Orc corpses.”

“Mahal, lass, you continue to amaze me.”

“What, like it’s hard? It only weighed like ten pounds.”

“No, no,” Fíli chuckled. “It’s just, you hear all these stories about Men, and their Ladies, and how delicate they are. Damsels getting in distress, fainting from a finger prick, that sort of thing.”

“That’s the biggest load I’ve ever heard,” Sigrid scoffed. “I was on my way to King Thorin’s tent, as that was where my da was supposed to be, and then this man asked for my help, and I could do it, so I did. Same with today.”

“It’s just, you don’t see many Ladies of Men helping Dwarves get their legs amputated.”

“Caryl’s a lady,” she retorted.

“Aye, she’s a woman, but she’s not a _Lady,_ ” Fíli pointed out.

“I’m not either, though, not really. I’m just trying to get my life back to normal again.” Sigrid rose back up to her knees and shuffled down to the water to rinse off again. “Though now it probably never will be normal. You know, none of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.” She stood and wiped her wet hands on her jacket.

He had opened his mouth to interject, but she had built up momentum. “We were doing just fine, you know, until you lot came. And you, and your brother, and whassname stayed so long we were attacked! _By Orcs!_ ” She walked back towards him, shaking her finger accusingly. “My house was destroyed by Dwarves, Orcs and Elves, and I’d barely gotten it back together again before _the dragon attacked!_  Which never would have happened, if you and the rest of you foolish creatures hadn’t pissed him off! And then. _And then!_ Thorin has the gall to tell my da that they’ll have to make a deal for the gold he promised us when you first got on his boat, just so Dale won’t starve this winter. And Thranduil is a whole other story. There was frost this morning, you know, we don’t have time to be mucking about like this when our seeds and cattle are in the bottom of the Lake!”

Fíli blinked. Apparently it had never been laid out for him so plainly. Quietly, he ducked his head and replied, “We’ve certainly caused you quite a bit of pain, Lady Sigrid. I hope in the future we can make it up to you. I will...speak with my uncle.”

She turned her back on him, opting to stare at the lake as she calmed down rather than his puppy dog face. “You go ahead and do that, Your Highness.”

When she refused to say nothing more, Fíli added, “Truth is, I had hoped to see you today because I wanted to thank you for what you had done for Kíli and me, back in Lake Town.”

“That wasn’t even me, that was the Elf.” Sigrid flicked her hand as if to shoo the very idea away. “Tauriel, wasn’t it? She was the one who actually knew what to do.”

“Stop selling yourself short, Lady Sigrid. You took us in when we were in need, and let us stay despite the great danger it brought you. You defended my brother and protected your siblings, and we never would have made it to Erebor if it weren’t for you. You held him as we left your house... Kíli is… He is all I have, right now. And besides being my brother, he is currently my heir. Whether you meant to or not, you saved the line of Durin.” Fíli sighed and stared at his feet. “You are right, we have brought you nothing but hardship in return.”

“How is he? Kíli?” Sigrid asked quietly, most of her fire extinguished by his quiet sorrow. “He was injured as well when last I saw you.”

“He’s getting there. Tauriel has stayed behind here, which certainly gives him something to look forward to. She visits him from time to time, raises his spirits some.”

“Well I hope that from here on out you can keep each other out of trouble. You’ve had quite enough brushes with death for one year.” Sigrid turned to smile at him, swiping nonexistent dirt from her hands. “And I as well. So I should get back home before my da, else I may not see the morning.”

“And I must head in the other direction. Please send our best to your father, and tell him that I’m going to talk to my uncle and see what we can do to make things right.” Fíli rose to his feet and gave a sort of half-bow, eyes twinkling. “My Lady.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes but bent her knees a bit anyway, mocking his formality as she answered, “Your Highness.”

As she headed south along the river bank, she had to admit to herself that she felt quite a lot better after shouting at the Dwarf Prince. Maybe she could make this “Lady of Dale” thing work after all. She just needed to find something to do during the day. Then everyone would be out of her hair and she could have some damned peace for once. And who knows, maybe Fíli would succeed where Da had failed, and Thorin would keep the oath he’d made on the other end of the lake.

She wouldn’t hold her breath.


	2. Building Anew

“No, I need you to do this,” Thorin rumbled, head in his hand.  “There is no more room for discussion, Fíli.  Everyone has their job to do and this is yours now.  I’ve been inundated with requests from The Bowman to discuss a loan of lumber, weapons, and gold.  He doesn’t seem to have anything to offer in return and I’ve tired of thinking up new ways to say _No."_  
  


“Uncle, I cannot believe you’re saying this.”  Fíli angrily pushed his chair back from the table at which they were working.  He stood and crossed his arms over his chest, leveling a stare at Thorin.

 

The conference room was large, but with just the two of them meeting today, a single lamp was lit above one end of the table, casting sharp shadows across the king’s face as he stared right back.

 

Frustrated at the lack of reaction, Fíli threw up his hands and started to pace the considerable length of the table.  “Dale didn’t even exist four months ago, winter is upon us, and they do in fact have plenty to offer.  They’re between us and the Lake, which means they’re between us and fish, and ice.”  

 

He turned at the end of the table and started back towards Thorin.  “Lord Bard was a Bargeman when we met him and he hasn’t exactly a lot of diplomatic experience since then.  I’m sure you would get somewhere if you were to go down there yourself, rather than waiting for ravens and messengers to go back and forth.”  

 

“You know that the Elf-King is due to arrive any day now. It is more important that I be here to receive him.  He’s the last person on this damnable planet I want to cross, and I have no time for your impudence.”

 

“Indeed,” Fíli muttered to himself.  He turned back towards the table and nodded sharply.  “Very well.  I will do this for you, but by Mahal, you cannot stay holed up here in the Mountain forever.  If Bard is the only one seen making this trip time after time, the Men will no longer support his travels.  Especially if you are seen to prefer the Elves over the Men.”  

 

“Just get down there.  And take Ori and Nori with you.”

 

As Thorin’s heir, Fíli had been groomed for the throne since birth.  He had endured countless lessons from as many teachers on any subject from war strategy to fiscal responsibility.  And yes, that included how to manage one’s image in the rest of the world.  If Thorin thought he could just take what he liked and damn the rest, well…

 

Well, that was his choice, and Fíli would have to just deal.  So Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thrain, shortly found himself wrapped in furs and seated on a pony in a caravan on his way down the mountain, getting ready to - he shuddered - _mingle_.

 

~*~

 

The people of Dale amazed Fíli anew every time he entered the city.  They had taken the old ruins and made something of their own.  New structures were built with the skeletons of the old ones, and they’d even restarted a bit of an economy.  There was a marketplace of sorts set up towards the center, and that’s where Fíli spent the majority of his time on these ‘diplomacy trips’ Thorin made him take.

 

Ori and Nori went to trade tales and more with the blacksmiths, but Fíli didn’t really need anything on this trip.  Instead, he found himself sitting on a snowless patch of ground with an old man named Dydoc who still had no permanent place to stay, despite the many months since the dragon razed Lake Town.  

 

“Does Lord Bard have a plan for people in your situation?”  Fíli asked, breaking a small loaf of dark bread in half and handing part to Dydoc.

 

“Well truth be told it’s the girl, Sigrid, actually giving us the time of day.  Now I don’t blame Bard none, he’s got everyone and their horse asking him for somethin’.  But she’s set up a place where we can go during the day to grab some food, and then a couple’a guys are sorta workin’ on a permanent place when they have time.  I got a bad back, so I can’t do much to help, but some’a the rest are real good at that kind of stuff.”  Dydoc tore a piece of bread off and tossed in his mouth.  He shrugged and added, speech muffled as he chewed, “Eh, I figure my lot in life ain’t so bad.  Live sixty-eight years, survive a damn dragon, and now I got a prince sharin’ his lunch with me.”

 

Fíli laughed.  “No, I am the privileged one.  If I get to sit here and have lunch with you, I don’t have to go talk to all of them,” he gestured wildly at the busy street in front of them.  “But if you wouldn’t mind, when we’re done here I’d like to see this kitchen.  I think we Dwarves might have something to learn from Lord Bard’s daughter.”

 

~*~

 

The building had once been a cattle barn; it was long and narrow, with a trough running down the middle.  The floor had been swept within an inch of its life, and two large tables stood in the far left of the building.  One of the former cattle stalls had windows punched out of the wall and the roof, which allowed the smoke from a cookfire to escape.  Three young women worked serving the queue of people shuffling through the center aisle.  Some makeshift tables and chairs had been brought in, however most of the people just sat on the ledges left from the former walls between the stalls.  It smelled of rotting straw and unwashed people, but it was warm, and a more pleasant scent came over from a large pot hanging over the fire in the corner.  People were coming away from the end of the queue with bowls of something hot, and Fíli was frankly amazed how orderly everything seemed to be.

 

“Welp, this is it.”  Dydoc said.  “Whoever needs to can come here once a day.  Sometimes people who need workers’ll come ‘round here to do some hirin’, but mostly this place is just for folks to get some food in their belly.”  

 

“Thank you, my friend.” Fíli pressed a coin into his hand.  “I must attend to some business here but hopefully I shall see you on my next visit.  Mahal keep you.”

 

Dydoc nodded his thanks and joined some friends, and Fíli threaded his way towards the workspace.  Unfortunately his height did him no favors, so it was not until he reached the table that he could see Sigrid was at work chopping vegetables, so focused that she didn’t react to his approach.  He watched her silently for a moment.  She was a whirlwind of efficiency, eyes blazing with the same focus she’d had at Gror’s side; she swept the carrots into the pot over the fire, stirred it with one hand and poked a bowl of rising dough with the other.  Not satisfied, she grabbed another bunch of carrots, chopped all the tops off at once, and swept those into a slop bucket on the ground beside her.  “Shailla,” she called to a tall, curvy woman plucking feathers off a chicken.   

 

“Yes?” The other woman practically sang her answer, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.  Her dark skin was dotted with sweat and downy feathers stuck to nearly every inch of her.  “I’m working on it, sugar.  Two left.”  

 

“You are wonderful and I love you,” Sigrid answered, sounding somewhat stressed.  Her skirts swirled about her as she moved about each station and light brown curls were slowly pulling themselves out of the bun she’d tucked them into.  She was completely focused and had no idea that Fíli was there.

 

“Good day, my Lady Sigrid.”

 

Her knife stilled, her back straightening immediately at the title.  As she turned, blue-grey eyes widened to see him standing there.  Sigrid dropped the knife and sunk to a (much improved) curtsy, ducking her chin to her chest.  As she rose, flour fingerprints spotted her blue skirts and she brushed them hurriedly away.  “Prince Fíli!”

 

He drew closer to her work table, shaking his head.  “You don’t have to curtsy for me. Just…” He sighed.  “Please just call me Fíli.  I’ve had to be a prince all day.”

 

“Is that so?” She relaxed instantly.  “Then why are you hanging around here?”  Sigrid’s tone was genuinely curious, and Fíli chuckled.

 

“Well, why are you hanging around here?”

 

Sigrid huffed a laugh and shrugged one shoulder.  “Because someone needs to do it,” she replied.

 

“It seems this is a theme with you.”

 

“You’re avoiding my question,” Sigrid accused, picking the knife back up and waggled it at him as she spoke.  “I have two younger siblings; you’ll never get away with that.  Now come over here so I can keep working.”  She jerked her head towards the other side of the table and started up again cleaning vegetables.  “Why aren’t you, I don’t know, talking to Da or, merchants, or someone important?”  The even strokes of her knife made a soft _sshk, sshk, sshk_ against the table as she worked.

 

“You’re important,” he blurted.  Eyes wide, he stammered to explain.  “I mean, you are Bard’s eldest daughter, healer of soldiers and apparently, now cook to the homeless.”    Before she could protest he added, “When Dydoc told me you were running this kitchen, I had to come see how you were doing it.  We Dwarves are still recovering from the battle as well; several are too injured to work, or won’t be able to work again.  We are… struggling to care for them.  I had hoped you could provide some insight.”  

 

Sigrid raised her eyebrows.  “Well, there’s a lot to do, so if you want to hear all about it you better get to work too.  Go wash your hands.”  She pointed the knife toward a basin in the other corner of the barn.  “Valar only know where they’ve been.”

 

Fíli chuckled under his breath as he went over and scrubbed his hands.  She had a point.  The sun drew lower in the sky and with every passing minute the line of hungry people grew longer.  When he returned to her, she had cleared off half the table and handed him her knife.  

 

“You can chop these for the stew while I work on the bread.”

 

He took the knife from her and couldn’t help but inspect it.  Sure it was a kitchen knife, not for battle, but it was well balanced and sharp, about the same size as the daggers he had stored in his boots.  The smack of Sigrid’s hands in the dough brought his attention back to her and he took a breath.  “So tell me, how did you get this started?  It can’t have been easy to get the building put together.  And where does this food come from?”

 

“Well this used to be a cattle barn, but no one has any cows,” Sigrid began, “so no one could make a really great case for it.  After most of the work was done with the survivors of the battle, I needed something else to do, and…” she shrugged.  “Bain and Mr. Potts and some others were still putting our house together, and I couldn’t go from room to room without getting in someone’s way.  They’ve started a school back up, so Tilda doesn’t need watching, so… I’m here.”  She turned the bread dough over and over on the flour-dusted table.  “I like it.  I feel like I’m actually useful for something.”

 

Fíli scraped the carrots into the pot and picked up a basket of slightly mealy potatoes to clean and quarter.  “So word got around, and now you’re feeding what, a hundred people a day?”

 

“Try three hundred,” she corrected sadly.  “Which is why we had to ask them to come only once per day.  I’m lucky to have Shailla and the others to help me.”  They both paused to watch the other woman for a moment.  

 

Shailla was waving a knife at someone stuffing their pockets.  “Oi!  Get your hands out of there, you know the rules, Dibbler!  Y’ain’t stealin from me, you’re stealin from the child in line behind you.  And somethin’ tells me if I give her this knife, you’ll be missin’ more than just the next meal, if you get my meaning.”

 

Sigrid huffed a laugh.  “We get most of the food by going around and asking for it, you know, people’s cast-offs or day-old stuff.  But people have to make a living, and they have to eat too, so sometimes it’s all I can do to get a tongue, or a cheek or something, to make some stock.  Hopefully with the dragon gone, hunting will improve.  Da’s also sent requests to Rohan, for livestock, though I don’t have any idea what we’d give them in return.”  

 

They returned to work, falling into an easy rhythm as he chopped vegetables and she swept them into the stock over the fire.  “You know,” Fíli ventured, “I wasn’t surprised when my Uncle said that, but I don’t understand how you can sell your city short.”

 

“What?”

 

“The Lake is yours.  That means ice, fresh water, fish, all the things you had when you were Lake Town.  Plus now you’ve land on the plains that might be good for crops, if not at least grass for those cattle you didn’t have for this barn we’re standing in.”

 

“Aye, that’s true in theory,” she conceded, grunting quietly as she worked another batch of dough in her hands.  “But there are still Orcs in the foothills, and they steal anything we let out there.”

 

“Really? I could have sworn--”

 

“Da put a few teams together to go out and try to find them, fight back, but that’s hardly safer than the Battle was.  Jack and Wil and Bernhard are dead.”  Sigrid’s tone was flat, dispassionate.  No surnames; she must have known them well.  “If it’s not Dwarves in my toilet it’s Orcs raiding my town.”

 

“Lady Sigrid,”  Fíli paused.  What do you say to someone whose life went to shit the second you walked into it?  “I…”

 

“Don’t.”  Sigrid frowned and separated the dough into oblong, thin loaves on a pan, which she set on a grate over the fire.  After a moment she added somewhat more brightly,  “What I wouldn’t give for a proper oven in this place. I make bread like it’s a sodding pancake, and everything has to be done one at a time, because we’ve only the room for the one fire.”  She pushed sweaty curls out of her eyes and shook her head to clear the thought away.  “But I should stop complaining.  You certainly didn’t come here to listen to all my whining.”

 

“I don’t mind, really,” he answered quickly, chopping and peeling a small, lopsided onion.  “In fact, I--”

 

“Fíli!!” a voice called from the doorway.  “Prince Fíli, you son of a-- _There_ you are!”  

 

He turned to see a white-haired dwarf shuffling his way through the crowd.  “Dori, what’s the matter?”

 

“Mahal take you, Fíli,” Dori hissed once he had arrived at Fíli’s side.  “You are the Crown Prince of Erebor, what are you doing chopping potatoes?”

 

“Learning how to organize a kitchen to feed the homeless?” he offered somewhat weakly.  “I-”

 

“You were supposed to meet with King Bard half an hour ago!”  Dori tutted and fussed all around his prince while Sigrid looked on in bemusement.

 

“Master Dori, I’m so glad you found Prince Fíli and myself,” she interrupted.  “It has been too long since last we spoke.   I hope you, Nori and Ori are well?”

 

Dori stopped short and looked up at her.  “Oh, Lady Sigrid, hello.  Thank you, we are all doing just fine. I do apologize for my outburst, however we really must be going.”

 

Fíli felt about a hundred eyes staring at the three of them.  The two other women cooking and serving food had stopped what they were doing to gawk at the scene before them, and the people in line for food had turned around to see what all the fuss was about.  He froze, hating to have made a scene, but Sigrid noticed it as well and was much quicker.  

 

“Of course!  Prince Fíli,” Sigrid smiled and curtsied, voice pitched just a bit high with nerves, “it was a pleasure speaking with you again today.  Please send my best wishes to the King Under the Mountain, and do let me know the next time you are planning to come down to Dale. Perhaps then we will be able to talk without peeling turnips the whole time.” She nodded her head to Dori.  “Dori, I hope you all have safe travels when you return home.  I look forward to seeing you again soon.”  

 

“And I as well,” Dori answered, perhaps a bit more seriously than was required.  

 

The susurrus of the crowd had risen again, and when Fíli glanced around he noticed that most people had returned to their business.  This was good, as the last thing he wanted was an audience at the moment.  “Goodbye, Lady Sigrid.  If I may…” he paused, licked his lips, and began again.  “I should like to write you, if I may.  I believe your counsel would be most helpful if I run into trouble implementing this plan in Erebor.”

 

Sigrid laughed, self-deprecating.  “I don’t know how helpful I might be, but um, yes.  Yes, you may write me.”  

 

“Wonderful,” Dori muttered, as if it were anything but.   “Come now, Fíli.”  They turned and wove their way back through the crowd of people, garnering quite a few stares on their way.

 

Fíli paused at the door to look back for just a moment. Sigrid was still watching them leave, hands on her hips.  She flipped a little wave at him, then turned back to work.  He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face as he returned the wave and walked out the doorway to meet with the King of Dale.

 

~*~

 

If Fíli were honest with himself, the meeting with Bard went better than it would have with Thorin around.  Nothing was decided but some good first steps had been made, at least.  He kept to himself on the way home, letting Dori and Ori’s chatter fill the silence as he drafted his plans for an appliance for Sigrid.  Once he got back to Erebor he could work on getting a stove down to Dale.  It would have to be large if she were to feed three hundred people per day, but light to be brought down from the Mountain’s forges...He had some questions yet that Sigrid would be able to answer; he’d write her as soon as he got settled back at home.  Despite what she and her father might think, the both of them were so utterly suited to leadership, he mused.  Fíli had suffered all the tutors and endured all the expectations for his entire life, but Sigrid had a natural sense for it.  She picked her battles carefully, and fought them well.  She did what needed to be done and had effortlessly managed the accidental scene in the barn.  She moved with efficiency and grace.

 

And, he realized, she had occupied his thoughts for the entire trip up the Mountain.  

 

This might be a problem.

 

 


	3. Courtly Chivalry, or Whatever

“Sigrid,” Bard began as she cleared away the dinner dishes.  “What are you doing tomorrow?”  

 

“Well, I was planning to go down and work in the kitchen after I get done with mending that tear in Bain’s brown trousers,” she shrugged.  “Pretty normal day, I expect.”

 

Bard tossed the piece of mail he’d been reading to the middle of the table and rubbed his temples.  “Unfortunately it doesn’t look like it.  Raven came this morning.  Seems that Thorin wants that nephew of his, Fíli, to come down and talk about setting some stalls up for the Dwarves down in the market now that it’s springtime.”

 

“Oh, really?”  Strange, the Dwarf Prince had been writing to her for weeks and hadn’t mentioned any trip.

 

“Aye.  The letter says nothing about anyone else so I expect it’s just Fíli.  If so I think it would be best to just have him come to the house.  We can work here, hopefully people will leave us alone that way.  Would it be too much trouble if…” he paused, a pained look on his face.  “I hate to make you give up your time down at the kitchen but--”

 

“No, Da, it’s fine, I’d be happy to help out.”  She dumped the dishes in a washtub and put a pot of water over the stove for dishwater.  

 

“Not just for dinner; I’d like you to work with us as well,” Bard babbled.  “I mean, you’ve been running this house since you were ten, you’re certainly more than just a maid, I don’t want you to think-- you’re smart as a whip, I know Fíli knows it too--”

 

“Da, don’t worry, I understand.  I don’t mind it, really.”  Sigrid rolled her eyes and wet a rag to wipe the table off.  “I just need to let Shailla know and she’ll get her brother to help her instead.”

 

Bard nodded absently.  “Aye.  Well I’ll send the raven back and hopefully it gets there before dark.  Something tells me no matter our reply, Thorin will send him anyway.”

 

“Everything will be fine, Da,” she placated.  “Go. Get your letter written and I’ll finish up here.”  

 

As Bard ambled off to follow her instructions, Sigrid poured the hot water over the dirty dishes and started scrubbing.  It had been months since Sigrid had last seen Fíli, yet she could still remember the absolutely earnest look on his face when he asked her to tell him about what she had done.  He’d truly listened to her, and sent several letters with questions about everything from recipes to portion control.  Then after all that, she’d been astounded one day to find a two-oven range with a stovetop being installed in her little cooking corner.  She didn’t recognize the two Dwarves working on it, but they’d just shrugged and handed her a letter, fixed with what she now recognized as Fíli’s seal.

 

She flushed in embarrassment as she recalled how she’d waited until she’d gotten home to read the letter.  Yet even that hadn’t provided her with the privacy she’d sought; Tilda had bounced all around her until she agreed to read it aloud.  

 

_Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain, to the Lady Sigrid of Dale:_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and my gift to you intact; though if i know Thragin and Bagin they’ll at least be able to patch it once it arrives.  I wanted to thank you most sincerely for your insight as I set up emergency services here in Erebor.  Your counsel has been most valuable to Durin’s Folk.  I hope the oven will serve to offset the great debt I feel we owe you--_

 

\--at that, Sigrid had snorted out loud. The wording was so stuffy as to be nigh unbearable, and to remember it now brought another laugh to her lips.  Great debt indeed.  Hopefully tomorrow he wouldn’t try to speak to her that way, she’d never be able to stand it with a straight face--

 

_\--and perhaps someday soon we can host you here Under the Mountain to show you how influential your advice has been._

_Mahal and all the Valar keep you,_

_-F_

 

Tilda had squealed, certain she could expect a trip to the mountain the next day. Sigrid had just folded the paper back up and tucked it under her mattress with the rest.  Pretty words, but she wasn’t sure about his end goal.  She’d been around the block far too many times to believe a few notes from her had in any way balanced out the cost of the stove he’d sent.  And after hearing Da talk about how Thorin had behaved before the battle, and the trouble he was still being now, she was loathe to believe Fíli’s upcoming visit wouldn’t try to leverage the gift.

 

Now though, she set the last dish on a rack to dry and hauled the tub outside to drain, taking a minute to breathe.  She had a lot to do before Fíli arrived.

 

~*~

 

The next morning had been filled with running around the market for food, cleaning the house, getting (and keeping) Tilda cleaned up, baking bread, stowing clutter out of sight, anything and everything.  She’d barely been able to get washed and changed herself before Fíli had arrived.  After setting a goblet of wine in front of Da and the Prince, and simple lemonade for herself, she sat down to listen to the proceedings.

 

An hour later, she was rather wishing she’d taken the wine.  There was apparently much more to this whole “open up a stall” thing than she’d anticipated.  Location relative to roads, water, other stalls of the same trade, all had to be negotiated.  Then there was rent to be paid, water usage, sales tax… Though Sigrid had a few ideas to offer, she was relieved to take her leave to prepare dinner.  When she returned, both Fíli and her Da looked ready to drop.

 

“Well, Lord Bard, I don’t think there’s much left to discuss until I take this back to King Thorin.  But we’ve got something here, I’m confident of that.”  Fíli paused as she set a plate down in front of him.  “Thank you, Lady Sigrid.”

 

“Very well then,” Bard sighed.  “Let’s eat then, and take a bit of rest.  Then you should be able to get back on the road before dark.”

 

Sigrid opened the door and peeked out to find her siblings messing around in the garden.  “Tilda, Bain!  Come wash up for dinner, and quickly!”  She set food at their places as well, and by the time she was seated they thundered to their chairs, gabbing a mile a minute.

 

“I’m serious!”

 

“Well _I_ think you’re _lying._  There’s no such thing as a grifflypug, is there Da?” Tilda whined as Bain stuffed his face to hide his smile.

 

Sigrid groaned.  “Bain--”

 

“Oh, aye, there is,” Fíli nodded gravely, to her surprise.

 

“Bain says they’ve got big teeth and long scraggly fur and they hide in attics and under your bed, waiting for you to come home and fall asleep so they can eat you.”  Tilda was plainly worried now that her brother had backup from a Real Grown-Up.

 

“Mm,” Fíli agreed, swallowing his mouthful of food before he added, “Sometimes they make their way into the mountains too, waitin’ in the caves for young Dwarves.  They’re wily lil buggers, don’t really care whether their next meal is Dwarf or Man or whatever you please.”  When Tilda looked away to her da, he winked at Sigrid, dimple cutting deep into his cheek.

 

“Yep,” Bain added, “Chew you up just as soon as look at you.”

 

Sigrid took in her sister’s frantic look and sighed.  “Oh Tilda, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” she began.

 

“--Aye, because they only go after cute little girls that do their chores!” Bard finished with a grin.  “And that doesn’t sound like you, lass, does it?”  

 

“Da!!” Tilda looked scandalized, eyes flitting between the others at the table.  Then after a moment, she realized what had happened.  “Da, you’re teasing me!  And Fíli too!  Fíli, how could you?”

 

“ _Prince_ Fíli,” Sigrid corrected quietly.

 

“Well I don’t think that was very princely at all,” she pouted.  

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Fíli laughed, hands up in surrender.  Then, serious as the grave, he added,  “I apologize, Lady Tilda, please forgive me.”

 

She turned up her nose _\--where had she learned that?--_  and huffed in her most grown-up voice,  “You are forgiven.”

 

Sigrid pursed her lips to keep from laughing and shook her head.  “All right, you lot, help me clear this.  Tilda, get ready to do your lessons.  Da and Prince Fíli need us out of their way.”

 

Bain and Tilda each took exactly one plate to the wash basin and disappeared, eager to take advantage of the time Sigrid would have to spend washing.  She sighed.  Typical.  By the time she had the pots soaking and most of the dishes washed, dried, and put away, Fíli had moved to the porch to sit on a half-barrel and have an after-dinner pipe.  Bard had been about to join, but Sigrid heard Mr. Potts calling over to request a hand with something, and full of apologies, Da had taken Bain with him to see if it couldn’t be dealt with quickly.

 

“Shit,” she whispered, hurrying to finish cleaning up so she could play host in her da’s absence, but Tilda beat her out to the porch.  There went all the post-dinner plans.  To compromise, Sigrid left the front door open so she could keep an eye and ear on her little sister.  Tilda stood beside Fíli, pulling gently at one of his braids to separate it from the rest of his hair.  

 

“Ow!  Ooh, you’re vicious!” he teased, lifting his chin to blow smoke straight up, away from the child’s face.

 

Tilda just giggled, dropping the braid.  “How come you have so many braids in your hair? And beads too?  Are they lucky?  Did it take a long time before you could braid your mustache?  Are the beads heavy? They must not be heavy if you can smile so much with them.  What about the big one in the back? It looks like pewter? Is it pewter?  Pewter is so heavy though so--”

 

“Please, Lady Tilda, I can only answer at a time!” Fíli interrupted, smile on his face.  “Dwarves put different braids and decorations in their hair for different reasons, but it’s usually to show other Dwarves something about us.  So the clip in the back not only keeps some of my hair back but it has that design on it showing who our parents are.  My mother wears one; it’s a family thing.”

 

“Kíli had one too!”  Tilda exclaimed, proud of herself for remembering.

 

“Aye, he has one too.”

 

Sigrid grabbed the broom and started sweeping under the table and out onto the porch, which was filthy, of course.  She absolutely was not making an excuse to keep eavesdropping on her sister.  It amazed her that the Dwarf who’d fought so fiercely against the Orcs both in Lake Town and in the Battle, who had survived the journey through Mirkwood and the grave injury from Azog the Defiler, should treat her baby sister so tenderly.

 

“These,” Fíli continued, pulling at the two in front of his ears, “show that I am next in line to the throne of Durin. My uncle wore these as well while we traveled, because he didn’t feel like he was truly King until we actually got to Erebor.”

 

“And these?” Tilda traced a finger down the braid that began at Fíli’s temple and ran behind his ear.

 

“These show that I’m not a direct heir, not Thorin’s son, but his nephew. Soon Kíli will have those as well, but with an extra strand to show he is younger than me.  These beads, well, are mostly just for show.  I like the way they look.”

 

“Me too,” she tugged on one.  “How come Kíli doesn’t have braids?”

 

Sigrid paused her sweeping right outside the front door.  She’d been wondering about this as well, but was too afraid to ask.  Leave it to fearless Tilda to take care of that problem for her.

 

“You get your first braids when you turn 80.  Kíli’s birthday is coming up next year, so my mother will be down by then and she, Thorin and I will put his first braids in.  Tauriel will probably have some special beads for him, because when you start courting someone, you get a special braid and beads.”  

 

He looked over to Sigrid, who was definitely not staring at him.  She glanced down, grinning, and when she looked back up he was smiling back at her.

 

“Da says no one’s allowed to court me til I’m _thirty,_ ” Tilda groaned.

 

“And very right he is, young one.”  Fíli tamped the tobacco in his pipe down a bit and lit it again.  As he blew smoke rings, Sigrid got back to work sweeping dead leaves and dust off the porch.

 

“Will you put a braid in _my_ hair?” Tilda blurted.  “It’s just that Da’s always too busy now and Sigrid’s rubbish at them.”

 

“Oi!” she called, making a face.  “You hush over there.”

 

“Well it’s true,” Tilda shrugged.  “They’re always too loose and you miss chunks.”

 

Fíli exhaled a cloud of smoke with a chuckle.  “Alas, Lady Tilda, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be proper.  In Dwarvish custom it’s something only your family, or your sweetheart, might do.  Very personal, you see.”

 

“Please?” she cried as she clasped her hands together and fell to her knees at Fíli’s feet.  “I won’t tell anybody!”

 

“Tilda--” Sigrid started, leaning the broom against the wall.

 

“ _Pretty please?_  With cream and sugar and a cherry on top??”

 

Fíli turned his pipe and tapped the ash out of the bowl, brushing it away with his toe.  “All right, lass, you’ve worn me down. I know you won’t tell anyone, right?”

 

Tilda shook her head solemnly.  “Pinky promise.”  She held out a fist with her little finger outstretched. _“You hold my pinky with your pinky and shake it,”_ she added in a whisper.

 

He linked his much larger pinky finger with hers and shook it once.  “And your sister won’t be opening her mouth either, will she,” Fíli added. “I don’t think she wants anyone to know she can’t braid.”

 

“Prince Fíli, I--”

 

“--But maybe she’ll pick something up if she pays attention, hm?”  He winked and tucked his pipe into his coat.  “All right, sit down here on the ground.”

 

Tilda immediately obeyed him and Sigrid walked over to stand behind Fíli. “Tilda, you better sit still for Prince Fíli a whole load better than you sit still for me.”

 

“I’ll give you my first little secret for dealing with squirmy little siblings,” Fíli joked as he pulled Tilda’s hair out of the bun and combed his fingers through it quickly.  “It’s actually the same as my first little secret for good tight braids:  start with very small strands.  Someone starts to get antsy with you, a good sharp tug will get them back in line.”  He yanked gently on the three thin strands of hair he had picked up.

 

“Ow,” Tilda giggled, the little flirt.  

 

“Aye, now imagine if I meant it.”  Fíli started to weave the pieces of hair, outside over inside, and said, “The secret is every time you go over the middle, you pick up some more hair to go with that piece.  But you can’t pick too much up, or it will get too heavy and fall out.”  

 

Sigrid peered over his shoulder and saw that indeed the pieces of hair he was adding to the existing braid were much smaller than what she would usually try.  “You seem to have a lot of practice with this,” she murmured.

 

“Mmhm,” he agreed, pausing to smooth out a strand before he continued to weave.  “Well more or less I do my own, and back when we lived with my mother, we would help her do hers sometimes, after my father died.”  

 

Sigrid had nothing to say to that.  She couldn’t even remember if her mother had ever braided her hair like that.  Well, she probably had done; how else was Da to have learned?  She watched Fíli work the braid from one temple across Tilda’s head like a crown.  Once the braid reached behind her other ear, he stopped picking up pieces and let the braid end at her shoulder, slightly shorter than the rest of the hair he’d left down.  He tied the end of the braid in a neat little knot and tugged on it gently.

 

“There you are, Lady Tilda. It should keep for a couple of days if you’re careful.  And you can tie that end up with the rest of your hair too, if you need.”

 

“Thank you, thank you thank you thank you, _thank you!_ ” Tilda squealed, feeling the braid blindly. She leapt to her feet and threw her arms around the Dwarf, who hugged back gingerly.

 

“Tilda!” a deep voice called from the walk.  “Let Prince Fíli breathe!”  

 

“Da!” The younger girl ran down to greet him.  “Look what Prince Fíli did!  He told me all about his braids and I asked him to do one in my hair!  Is it pretty?”

 

“Aye, it’s very nice, love,” Bard responded patiently.  

 

Bain was close behind him and rolled his eyes.  “‘M goin to bed, Da,” he muttered.

 

“Right.  Everyone say farewell to Prince Fíli.  The sun is getting low and you need to get washed up.”  Bard ushered Tilda and Bain back in the door, then turned to clasp a hand with Fíli.  “Prince Fíli, thank you for making the trip down to Dale.  I hope your return to Erebor is swift and safe.  Now I hope you will excuse me.  Tilda is a bit--” he grimaced, “wound up.”

 

Fíli nodded, and Bard went into the house, pushing the door closed behind him.  Sigrid turned to him.  “Do you have everything?  Nothing left in the house or anything?”

 

He patted himself down, teasing, “Got my longsword, my short sword, two throwing axes on my back, one on my hip, four daggers in my boots and four in my coat…”

 

Sigrid laughed and swatted at his chest.  “Hush, you.  Between you and Tilda I think I’ve had enough teasing for one day, don’t you think?”  She started walking towards the stable where Fíli’s pony was housed, the Dwarf close behind.

 

“My most sincere apologies, Lady Sigrid,” he called.  “I knew not that I had wounded you so grievously.”  

 

She rolled her eyes and started taking the tack down off the wall and outfitting the pony.  “What about water skins, flint ’n’ tinder, that sort of thing, hm?  The sun’s already getting low.”

 

Fíli lay a blanket down over the pony’s back and heaved the saddle up.  As he buckled and tightened all the straps, he answered, “I’ll be fine.  I traveled all the way from the Shire to Erebor.  This short trip won’t be anything I can’t handle.”

 

Together they walked the pony to the gate marking the end of Bard’s property.  “Thank you,” she said quietly, “for today.  For coming down here and working with us, for being so nice to Tilda…”  Sigrid folded her arms across her chest a bit uncomfortably. “She really likes you.”   _I really like you._  The thought rang loudly in her head.

 

“It was my pleasure, Sigrid, truly.  Though I perhaps wasn’t joking about the braids.  Don’t tell Thorin.”  He smiled widely, mustache braids bouncing back and forth.  “He’s a bit stodgy about that sort of thing.”  

 

“My lips are sealed,” she promised, grinning back.  A moment passed, and then another, and she found they were still grinning at each other.  Hurriedly she cleared her throat and added, “Really, be careful though.  Now that it’s warming up, the Orcs are down here raiding more and more often.  No one else has died, but animals are still disappearing… iron and steel as well.”  
  


“What?  Truly?”  Fíli looked genuinely surprised.

 

“Aye, we’ve not been making a dent, it seems.  If we had some more fighters, came at them from both sides…”  She let the sentence hang, hoping he would see how much they needed the Dwarves’ help without having to spell it out.  Spelling it out meant paying for it. He hadn’t mentioned the stove once on this visit, but Sigrid really wasn’t interested in pushing her luck.  
  
“I will.  Be careful, I mean.”  He nodded, clearly processing the information she’d given him.

 

“Well, I suppose you’d better be going, take advantage of as much light as you can.  I pray the Valar keep you safe on your way.”  

 

Fíli took her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles; Sigrid felt her stomach drop.  “Thank you, Lady Sigrid.  Take care.”  He swung himself up onto his pony and settled in.  “I believe it’s your turn to write me, as well.  If I leave now, what are the odds there will be something for me when I arrive?”

 

“Rather low, Prince Fíli, as I’ve spent all my talking points with you today face-to-face.  What more could I even have to say to you?”  She went back behind the gate and fastened it, then leaned against the fence.  

 

“Whatever you’d like to send, I’d happily read.”  He checked his feet in the stirrups and the pack behind him, then gave her a wave.  “Farewell!”

 

“Farewell,” Sigrid called back.  He clicked his tongue and the pony started walking down the road towards the Lonely Mountain.  She watched him go until he reached a bend in the road and slipped out of sight.  It wasn’t until she had washed up and slipped into bed that she realized the butterflies in her stomach still hadn’t settled. Was she sweet on the Dwarf prince?  That would be silly.  He was four times her age and also, oh, heir to the bleeding throne of Erebor.  

 

He was probably being nice to her because he had to be.  Courtly chivalry, or whatever.  He probably kisses every lady’s hand whenever he meets one.

 

_But he probably doesn’t braid their sister’s hair, or join her brother in teasing her._

Oh Valar. She was sweet on the Dwarf prince.  

 

Well wasn’t that great.  Wasn’t that just great.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties in this chapter as well with here with Fíli and Kíli's ages, and the braid lore. Based on life expectancy for Dwarves (over 250 years) I basically decided that 80 would be "adulthood" in the same way that most places consider 18 to be "adulthood." Fíli was 82 at BOTFA and Kíli was 77, so it should work out more or less. Braid lore is going to come up later as well (as you may have guessed) so I hope you don't mind that I'm making it up as we go. Thanks for reading!


	4. Days Off and Decisions Made

The sun shone high in the sky as Fíli set out from the Lonely Mountain, out towards the plains which lay at its foot.  He had packed his pony lightly, not carrying much more than a lunch, a wineskin, and a book, ready to enjoy the unseasonably warm spring day in peace.  It was the first day in three weeks he had no princely duties awaiting him, and he fully intended to stay as far away from the halls of Erebor as possible.  

 

Thorin expected Fíli to be present for nearly every single little meeting, but didn’t actually ask for advice nor take it when Fíli offered it freely.  He’d tried, twice, to talk his uncle into building teams to counteract the Orc raiding parties coming down around the Mountain towards Dale, but Thorin refused to entertain the idea entirely, saying their resources were already thin enough, and he wouldn’t waste Dwarf lives on a problem plaguing a city of Men.  It was a waste of his time, and Fíli left every council meeting irritated.   Kíli and Ori had been trying to cheer him up, but as they resorted mainly to practical jokes, they were not getting their desired effect.

 

What Fíli _really_ wanted was a break from everyone.  Some fresh air.  A nice ride out in the plain where he could sort out his thoughts and figure out how to talk to Thorin about how he’d been feeling.  The steady bounce and sway of his galloping pony lulled his thoughts to near silence, and he relished the feeling of the wind through his long hair.  As much as Dwarves were made for caves under the mountain, a change of scenery could do wonders.

 

Before long he realized he’d let his pony take him halfway to Dale.  The city sprawled along the foot of the Lonely Mountain, built into the beginnings of its craggy side.  The cookfire smoke curled lazily towards the sky.  Fíli pulled up short, yanked back into a memory.  Roofs blasted off of buildings, fires set and spread by the siege weapons the orcs had brought.  Old thatched roofs smouldering.  The walls of the city, smashed to pieces by trolls.  A shooting pain ran through his back; the agony of Azog’s blade running him through felt new again.

 

He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear the thought away.  That was over a year ago.  He was fine; he was alive, and so was his brother.  The walls of Dale were rebuilt now, mostly, and many of the damaged buildings had been patched up or completely demolished.  The Men had made quick work of their new city.  Yet the smell of sulfur and blood still hung around, and he turned his pony away, towards the river.

 

About a half mile out he noticed there was someone camped out there, which was curious as the walls of the city offered considerable protection.  Drawing closer he realized a woman had something boiling in a pot over a fire, but was working away at something else at the river’s edge.  Her horse grazed some hundred feet away from her, completely uncaring of Fíli’s approach.  He dismounted and led his pony over to her.  She was kneeling on the ground, bent over a small tub, and did not seem to notice him.  As he reached out to make his presence known, she jumped to her feet, whipping around to brandish a… kitchen knife?  

 

“Get back!”

 

He stumbled backwards, dropped the reins of his pony and raised his hands, palms out.  “Forgive me, I never meant to-- Sigrid?”

 

“Fíli?!”  she gaped, lowering the knife for a moment before waving it in his face again.  “Just what do you think you’re doing, coming up behind people like that?  You couldn’t have called out from, oh, I don’t know, _more than two feet away?_   You aren’t exactly quiet on your feet you know, and when you don’t announce yourself what am I supposed to think, hmm?”  

 

With every sentence she took a step towards him, punctuating with jabs of her knife.  Fíli inched back until his back was to the fire she’d built.  What she lacked in technique she certainly made up for with anger.  Then, seeing Sigrid hesitate, Fíli raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Well if you’re going to use a knife, you should do it right.  First off, you’re going to want to stand sideways.”  He slipped around her outstretched arm to stand right next to her, and gently pulled one hip back towards him so they were front-to-back.  “You’ll get a longer reach that way, and you’re harder to hit.”  She was close, her back straight against his chest, and Fíli suddenly felt much too warm.  

 

“Dammit, Fíli, I’m not here for fencing lessons!” she groused, practically jumping away from him.  “I’m just trying to get my damned laundry done in peace without a gaggle of twelve year old boys trying to catch a glimpse of the Lady of Dale’s smallclothes.  And now I have the Prince of Bleeding Erebor to hide them from instead!”

 

“Sigrid, I’m sorry,” he protested weakly, “just put the knife down.”

 

“And here I’m cussin’ him out, _again,_ ” she groaned, tossing the knife into the soft soil where it stuck upright.  She turned back to her wash tub and gestured for him to follow her.  “Well, I can’t get away from people even in the middle of nowhere so I might as well put you to work.  Come help me dump this in the river.”

 

Fíli let out the breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding, and took a hold of one side.  The muscles of his back and shoulder ached again with that ghost-pain as he straightened back up, but he willed it away with a grimace.  Together they brought the tub down to the river, and he held it while she kept the laundry from floating out with the dirty suds.  Once the clothes were rinsed, he carried the laundry over to some large rocks where Sigrid began setting them out to dry.

 

“So why are you out here?” she asked, calmed down considerably.  “I would think you’d be busy Under the Mountain.”

 

“Aye,” Fíli answered, “I am.  That’s why I came down to the river, to be honest.”  He took off the scabbards for his two swords, as well as his coat, and lay them on the ground.  Fíli sat beside them, legs stretched out before him, leaning back on his elbows.    “It’s been pretty much non-stop business.  Thorin has kept me running all over the Mountain doing everything from supervising the forges to sitting on council meetings to running down this or that stray Orc that tries to make trouble for us…” He lay back and stretched out, making a quiet noise of contentment.  “So I declared today my own personal holiday.”  

 

“What’s that like?  A holiday all to one’s self?” Sigrid replied teasingly.  She wrapped her hands in thick cloth and took the pot off the fire.  Then she added some of the hot water to the empty wash tub, and dropped another load of clothes in.  Humming a human tune Fíli was not familiar with, she hunched over the steam to work the stains out of a pair of pants.   Her face flushed and tiny hairs sprung out of their hold, creating a frizzy frame around her face.  Sweat began to bead on her neck and forehead, and Fíli realized he was staring, mouth hanging open.

 

Clearing his throat, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco, to give himself something else to focus on.  The rush of the river and quiet humming from Sigrid made a rather nice accompaniment for his restful afternoon.  As he struck a match and took his first puff, he realized why this particular stretch of the river looked familiar.  Downstream he could still barely make out the ruins of Lake Town.  They sat, more or less, right where the majority of Men had washed up when they fled the destruction the dragon had brought upon them.

 

“I never said goodbye to you that day,” Fíli murmured.

 

“Hm?” Sigrid answered absently.  She had begun to scrub a shirt against a washboard, moving along to the rhythm of her tune.

 

He sat up straight and turned to face her.  “I never said goodbye to you, the day Lake Town fell.  I… I’m sorry for that.” He tucked back into his pipe, eyes downcast.

 

She scoffed and set the shirt aside, picking up a small skirt which obviously belonged to Tilda.  “Fíli, that’s hardly something to apologize for.  There was a war on.”

 

“No, I,” he blew out smoke in a huge puff.  “You and Tilda and Tauriel got off the boat, and all I could think about was getting back to my uncle, back to Erebor… Even as Kíli took his time saying goodbye to Tauriel, I just left you here on the beach!”

 

“Fíli, don’t--”

 

“I don’t even know what happened to you!  Well, I know that the orcs attacked Dale but where were you by then?  Were you safe?”  Now that he’d started thinking about it, he found he couldn’t stop his thoughts from following a rather grim path.

 

Sigrid smiled ruefully, “No, not really.”  When Fíli just stared, stricken, she continued, “After a little while we found Da and Bain, and we really thought we had made it out of the thick of things, you know?  The whole crowd was already calling for Da to be the next Master, or a King, or what have you.  Alfrid was trying to snake his way into Da’s favor, which was pretty laughable actually...“ She drifted off as she worked on a particularly difficult stain.  “But we were too exposed here at the river’s edge, so we all trucked up to Dale and tried to find shelter.  It was a pretty sorry sight, I’ll tell you that much.  King Thranduil came with food and wine, but also with an army.  That was when I knew it wouldn’t be long.”

 

She paused then, clearly sad, and in the empty space the only sound was the _puk, puk, puk_ of Fíli’s pipe and the the _crackle, pop, hiss_ of the fire behind them.  

 

“Then what happened?” he asked quietly.

 

“Da had left us behind to talk with King Thranduil again that morning… Later I found out he’d gone to the mountain to speak with Thorin.  A little after midday the three of us went looking for him, and that was when the Orcs burst through the city wall.” She shrugged and set aside her laundry.  “We ran all over the city, trying to stay away from them, but they were everywhere.  Bain was quite brave,” she smiled as she remembered. “He’d gotten a sword from somewhere, got one or two of the buggers himself.  Da found us eventually… The Elves came to help us finish the job and, I don’t know.  It’s all a bit of a blur really. We hunkered down with the rest of the children and the old folks while Da went to lead the last charge. I truly thought I wasn’t going to see him again.”

 

“I should have been there,” Fíli mumbled.

 

“Oh don’t be daft.  You stayed with Prince Kíli, and your people.  And rightly so.  You hardly knew us.”  She stood and stretched her back, shoulders, and neck, then made to take the tub to the river’s edge again.  

 

Fíli scrambled to help her.  Once the tub was upright he reached out to touch her arm.  “I’m really glad that’s changed.”

 

Her steam-flushed cheeks burned red, highlighting flecks of blue in grey eyes that stared back at him.  Her lips parted just a moment, and Fíli was drawn forward, leaning in, his hand still resting on her elbow.  Then she blinked, sucked in a breath and smiled almost too brightly.  “Me too.”

 

He stepped back, inwardly shaking off the remnants of the spell she’d broken, and busied himself pulling the tub further away from the edge of the river.  That had been… odd.

 

~*~

 

Later that evening, Fíli sat officiating the archery competition Kíli and Tauriel had goaded each other into.  They stood right next to each other, aiming at a target some hundred yards off.

 

“Ready…” he called.  They notched the arrows.  “Aim…” They raised their bows, Tauriel’s sitting considerably higher than Kíli’s.

 

“You sure you can get enough distance with that tiny Dwarven thing?” she teased, eyebrow raised though her gaze did not stray from the target.

 

“Oh I’ll show you what my Dwarven thing can do,” Kíli answered.

 

“Ugh, Kíli,” Fíli groaned.  “Loose!” The bowstrings thwapped back into place and a moment later two arrows thudded into the straw target.  Kíli’s blue-fletched arrow lay solidly within the first ring, but the elf’s sat below it, just on the edge of the bulls-eye.

 

Tauriel lowered her bow and pumped her other fist.  “Sorry what was that, little Dwarf? I can’t hear you over the sound of my victory.”

 

Kíli scowled, rubbing his chest absently.  “Best two out of three?”  She noticed and gave him a questioning look.  When he shrugged, she nodded and took another arrow from her quiver.  

 

Fíli squashed the pang of guilt that struck him, seeing Kíli’s pain.  Yet the only thing to do would be to keep exercising the muscle until it healed.  “All right, brother.  Time to stop taking it easy on the elf just because she saved your life _one time._ ”  He toyed with one of his mustache braids and winked at his brother, who laughed.

 

“If only my arrow flew as true as my affections,” he sighed dramatically.  “Alas, I will have to make up for my lack of archery skill in some... other area.”

 

“Ready,” Fíli announced, a bit louder than was strictly necessary.

 

“I may have some suggestions,” Tauriel commented lightly as she tucked her arrow against the bow string.

 

“Aim,” Fíli warned, “Also, gross.  You two are disgustingly made for each other.”

 

“Oh I just meant with the sword, or axe,” she replied, deadpan.  “In battle one cannot rely on one long range weapon alone.”

 

Kíli chuckled.  “Pay him no mind, my darling.  My poor brother is just sad he has no one to keep him warm at ni--”

 

**_“Loose,”_** Fíli grouched, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

His little brother whooped with excitement as his arrow struck the center of the bullseye.  Tauriel had laughed at Kíli’s teasing, which sent her arrow veering right. “All right! Time for a tie-breaker,” he announced, pulling a third arrow from the quiver.  “I’m sorry, Fíli, I forgot.  It’s not quite that you have no one, more like you have a lass in mind and won’t do anything about it.”

 

“What? I do not.”  

 

“Sure you do.  You’re positively pining.”  

 

“Ready.”

 

“ _‘I was down in Dale today,’_ ” Kíli sang in a completely inaccurate imitation of his brother’s voice.  “ _‘She’s running a kitchen for homeless people out of an old cattle shed,’_ or maybe,   _‘I got another letter from her, she had wonderful ideas.  She’s **so** wise.’_ ”   

 

“Aim.”

 

“What, Bard’s girl?” Tauriel interjected as she pulled up her bow.  “Sigrid?”

 

“ _‘Aye, Sigrid,’_ ” Kíli answered in that stupid voice of his.  “ _‘She blushes when someone teases her.  She was so embarrassed when Tilda--’_ ”

 

“If you keep this up I’m going to call the match for Tauriel regardless of how this round goes,” Fíli grumbled, defeated.  

 

“ _‘--told me she was rubbish at braids.’_ ”

 

“Loose.”

 

Arrows flew.  “Rubbish at braids?  What?” Tauriel squinted, tilting her head.  “Also, take that, Kíli.  Looks like my five hundred more years of practice paid off.”

 

“ _‘I saw her again today, Kíli,’_ ” he continued, prancing down to the target to retrieve his arrows.  “ _‘Complete accident, really.  She brandished a knife at me.  But I’ve got another dagger she could handle if she likes.’_ ” He barely finished his sentence before he collapsed into giggles.  

 

“All right, all right, enough.”  Tauriel shoved Kíli out of in front of the target and tugged her own arrows free.  “Leave your poor brother alone.”

 

“I just want him to realize what he sounds like so he can stop annoying me and do something about it.”

 

“You’re in love, so you want everyone else to be too,” Fíli accused.  But when Kíli fixed him with a blank stare, and Tauriel looked at him so knowingly, he caved.  “You know it’s not exactly that easy.” Fíli tugged at his mustache.  “She is the daughter of the Lord of Dale, and I’m the heir to Erebor.  There are… Expectations.”

 

“Oh bugger that,” Kíli shrugged and began to walk to the armory to put his things away.  “Our beloved King Uncle keeps the company of a Hobbit, for pity’s sake.  There are rumors Lord Bard himself has become particularly favored by King Thranduil.”  He hung his bow and quiver in their spots and plucked a dagger out of Fíli’s coat.  He balanced the tip on the end of his finger with exaggerated movements.  “Call it… ensuring peace for Dale and Erebor, that sort of thing.  You just gotta put the right spin on it.”  He flicked it up so it flew end over end.

 

Fíli grabbed the dagger out of the air and put it back in its place.  “I don’t even know if she’s interested, Kí.”

 

“Not until you ask,” Tauriel reminded gently.  “She wouldn’t keep writing you if she didn’t at least like you.”

 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start!” he moaned, combing his hands through his hair.  

 

“This is not actually difficult, brother.  Start with the courting beads.  Or maybe not, since she’s so _rubbish at braids,_ ” Kíli mocked. “Maybe start with some other hair piece, you know, just a gift.  Women like gifts.   _Everybody_ likes gifts!  Then, you know, if she likes it you can ask to formally court her.  And courting isn’t marriage, it’s just getting to know one another, except, you know, exclusively.”

 

“That’s a great idea, Kíli,” Tauriel agreed as they turned up the staircase toward the living quarters.  

 

Fíli had run out of arguments.  It _was_ a good idea.  That was the problem: no matter how it grated him, his brother was actually right, and now he had to do something about it.  Their steps rung off the stone walls, torches and mirrors keeping the hallway bright.  He dropped Kíli and Tauriel off at Kíli’s room with a half-hearted “You two behave now.”  When he arrived at his own quarters, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it.  

 

How was he going to do this?  Sure, making a hair comb or something is easy enough, but how was he actually going to give it to her? _‘Oh hey Sigrid, how’s it going? Good, good…Um here have this thing I made you, hope you like it, bye!’_  Ugh.  When he was actually there, with her, she was so easy to talk to.  Back at the river he’d found he couldn’t stop his words from coming if he’d tried.  Why was this so difficult?

 

He moved to the bed and began to undress for the day.  A pile of letters on his desk caught his eye.  Great.  More business to take care of.  His boots landed on the floor with a thud, and he kicked them under the bed. Once he was down to his trousers and tunic, he grabbed the lot of them, lit a lamp, and propped himself up on the bed.  Letters from Mirkwood - likely invoices.  Letter from the Blue Mountains - his mother?  Letter from the Men’s Carpenter’s Guild in Dale - definitely invoices.  Letter from…  Fíli sat up.  This letter was addressed in a somewhat clumsy hand and sealed with entirely too much wax.  He set the others aside and broke the seal, utterly unprepared for what he found.

_Lady Tilda of Dale, to Fíli, Crown Prince Under the ~~Mounten~~ Mountain,_

_Hello Fíli!  My teacher Mrs. Rosedon says we must practise our hand writing and spelling by writing a letter to someone.  When I told her I was writing to you, she said we should pick someone we met in person but I told her that you came over to our house and had dinner with us but she didn’t believe me.  I wanted to tell her you braided my hair but I didn’t because I remembered that was a secret.  Except she’s going to read these before we send them._

_Mrs. Rosedon: You can’t tell ANYONE, PROMISE._

_How are you?  I am well.  Da says everyone is very busy working so we will be ready for winter.  Are the Dwarves ready?  Our ~~strowburys~~ strawberries are still green but Sigrid says they’ll be ready for pie and muffins and stuff by the end of the month!  Which is a good thing because then we can have pie for Sigrid’s birthday! which is on the last day of the month.  I know it’s not MY birthday but I can still be exsited for pie.  _

_Sigrid is going to be 22 which is SOOOOO old! Now that everyone knows that our Da is Lord of Dale, she is starting to get ~~sootors~~ suitors.  _  
  
He lowered the page to his lap, frowning.  Of course there would be suitors now that Dale was a functioning city again. Sigrid was an attractive match both in her beauty and her political status, and twenty-two certainly was well into marrying age for Men.  He hadn’t really anticipated any of this, but of course there would be Men lining up for the opportunity to wed her, and there Fíli stood, nearly two feet below them.  Well he’d have to get a move on, at any rate, or Sigrid and Bard would make their decision and he’d miss his opportunity to show her how he felt.

_Some of them are hansom but mostly Da says there ~~carak~~ characters.  Old or smelly or both, or they promise they will be rich some day but they aren’t right now.  We have never been rich anyway, but Sigrid says it’s even more important to have a good match now that we are Ladies._

Fíli knew it was petty but he had to admit the news made him feel a little better.  He could take care of Sigrid the way she deserved, he had that much going for him at least.  And while he didn’t have Kíli’s charisma, he wasn’t bad-looking...  Mahal, why was he even thinking this hard about it?  He’d never really worried about his looks before now, nor seen his inheritance as anything more than a burden to worry about some time down the road.  He was going mad, surely.

_Anyway.  If you don’t have anything going on maybe you could come down to visit on her birthday.  That would be really fun!  I haven’t seen you in a long time._

_I hope you are well!  Maybe you could write back and prove to my teacher that you are my friend.  It’s okay if you don’t though I know your busy being prince.  Take care!_

_Your friend always, no matter what Mrs. Rosedon says,_

_Tilda_

Fíli smiled.  Tilda had given him the chance he needed, though he was sure she didn’t know how important it was.  He’d have to remember to write her back if he found the time.  Fíli dropped his mail on the floor next to the bed, turned off the lamp, and slipped between the sheets with a soft sound of contentment.  He had a very busy three weeks ahead of him indeed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Archery Contest scene was taken from [a lovely piece of fan art](http://hvit-ravn.tumblr.com/post/113446055196/dont-let-this-elf-maiden-beat-you-kili-show) by Ronnie (aka hvit-ravn on tumblr). They were kind enough to let me take their scene and expand it into what you saw here. Go send them some love if you liked the scene!


	5. Embarassment Never Killed Anyone (Probably)

Sigrid stood in the doorway, clasping her hands entirely too tightly in front of her as she wished for her latest suitor to take the hint. “Well again, thank you for coming, Mr. Stromsen.  Valar keep you on your way.”  She ushered the man down to his horse and stood as close to her brother as she could manage.  

 

“It was my pleasure,” Stromsen snivelled after he’d mounted the horse.  He sat uneasily in the saddle, as if the smallest breeze might send him toppling off the side.  “I will write to you, and if the weather keeps you shall come visit me so I can show you the land and all that will be yours when you become my bride.”

 

Sigrid felt Bain stiffen beside her, and though she didn’t think it possible, her plastered smile grew wider.  “So sure are you to impress me, Mr. Stromsen, when the treasure of Erebor lies in my back yard?”  She dropped her smile and smacked the horse’s haunch.  “Farewell!”

 

The horse whickered and jumped to a trot, carrying Gavin Stromsen and his sour look away.  Bain did not even try to smother his laughter.  “That man was a complete and utter arse.   _‘All this will be yours when you become my bride,’_ ” he imitated in a nasally voice.  “What a joke.”

 

Sigrid leaned against the porch railing and covered her face with both hands.  “I swear to the Valar and anyone else who’s listening, if one more man so much as looks at me I’m going to kill him.”  

 

“Is he gone yet?” Tilda’s high voice rang from the doorway.  Sigrid turned to see her sister peeking her head out from around the door.  “He was horrid.”  The younger girl ran to her and hugged her tightly.  “Promise you won’t marry him?  He smelled bad and always stood too close and didn’t laugh at any of my jokes!”

 

Sigrid laughed.  “There’s no way I’m marrying him.  For starters, he lives too far away! I’d never see you if I went with him, and I’d miss you too much.”

 

Bain rolled his eyes and closed the gate to their property.  “And that would be the least of your troubles.”

 

“Aye, you have that right,” she agreed.  “Come on, now, I need your help to get the house in order before Da gets home.  I need to go down to the market and pick up a few things for dinner tonight.”  

 

The siblings both began to whine, but she cut them off with a wave. “Ah ah ah!  It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me today.”

 

“Ew, you had to see that arse on your birthday?  I’d not put that together… What awful luck,” Bain chuckled, loping up the stairs towards his bedroom.  

 

“Exactly!” Sigrid nodded her head firmly.  “So be nice.  And peel the potatoes while I’m gone!”

 

Tilda handed Sigrid a sack for groceries and a purse.  “Maybe someone better will come by and cheer you up."

 

“Maybe.  But quite frankly I’d be a lot happier if no one bothered me at all.”  Sigrid bent down and kissed Tilda’s forehead.  “Please sweep the floors while I’m away.  Gavin tracked in a load of mud when he first arrived and it looks a right mess from the door to the dining table.  I’ll be back soon.”

 

She headed down the road with the sack slung across her chest, humming absently to herself.  Tilda was not wrong; Gavin Stromsen had been truly terrible, even compared to the scores of other terrible men that had come calling.  Over the past six months they’d filed in and out of her home, offering everything from insultingly modest bride-prices to trade agreements to defense treaties to some ambiguous wealth that could not be clarified.  Most of the time they at least respected her personal space.  She shook her head, recalling Stromsen’s offer.  As if she’d travel all the way to Bree.  Even if she took a whole entourage, something told her he’d never let her return.

 

As she turned down the hill towards the center of the city, she winced, recalling her response.  It wasn’t that she felt guilty; he’d definitely deserved a fair bit of sassing after that carriage-wreck of a morning.  However she knew that quip about the Lonely Mountain was going to get back to her Da eventually, and then she'd be in trouble.  She obviously didn’t have anything to do with the treasure there, she’d never actually even seen it.  If she were honest with herself she’d have to admit her outburst was the result of months of wishful thinking.  Ever since their chance meeting at the river, Sigrid couldn’t get that damned Dwarf Fíli out of her mind.

 

Neither one of them had had much time to write since their meeting at the riverside.  Sigrid had sent a quick note off one night, apologizing again for trying to kill him, and assuring him that she understood she would never stand a chance against him in close combat.  He hadn’t responded, and she hoped that just meant he was busy.  The last time she’d seen him, he certainly had acted… Well not quite _affectionate,_ but…  

 

Sigrid waved absently to a woman hanging laundry, and laughed a bit to herself.  No, Fíli hadn’t been overly affectionate by Human standards, but he’d pretended not to see her smallclothes drying on the rocks, and had touched her gently, respectfully, as he tried to teach her how to defend herself.  A bolt of heat shot straight down her spine as she remembered the feeling of his broad hands on her hips.  His breath hot on her ear as he murmured instructions.  How desperately she had wanted him to kiss her there, where her neck met her shoulder.

 

Sigrid took a deep breath and let it all out at once.  It would absolutely not do to dwell on that Dwarf.  She had plenty of other things to deal with, like running her house and caring for her siblings and the never-ending parade of fools that came to convince her to marry them.  Some of them hadn’t been that bad, and she’d resigned herself to the idea that she’d have to pick one of them eventually.  

 

It was just that she was a Lady now.  With a capital “L.”  Her father was the King of Dale, and even if he’d never let anyone call him “king,” he still was expected to make a good match for her.  A good match meant a good treaty, good trade, possibly even a loan of food and textile for Dale.  Their crops were still scraggly and the city had barely any livestock to think of.  A bride price would go a long way.

 

But no, daydreaming would get her nowhere.  She had to work with what she’d got.

 

Instead, Sigrid headed down the steps into the marketplace, planning out her birthday dinner.  She was on her way to the butcher when she heard someone call her name and she stopped in her tracks.  She’d meant what she said to Bain:  if one more man wanted her attention today, so help her…

 

But it wasn’t a Man, it was a Dwarf.  Her mouth dropped open.  “Fi--Prince Fíli?”  He was standing with one of the blacksmiths, one of his swords unsheathed; apparently they’d been discussing it before Fíli had spotted her.  She headed over to them, smiling.  “Fancy seeing you here.  I’d no idea you were coming to Dale.”

 

Fíli reached behind him to sheath his sword, then nodded to the blacksmith.  “Thank you for your time, Jarrus.”  The man nodded back and turned back to his work, and Fíli turned his full attention to Sigrid.  “I know, I only really told Ki and Tauriel that I was heading down the Mountain.”  He frowned.  The loud, steady ringing of the blacksmith pounding steel was drowning out his words.

 

Sigrid jerked her head towards some tables a food vendor had set up next to their booth.  “Should we go sit down?”  When they found a free spot, she took her bag off her shoulder and set it on the ground between her feet.  “So what brought you down to Dale’s marketplace today?”

 

Fíli grinned and fiddled with one end of his moustache.  “Not much.  To be perfectly honest, I was biding my time, waiting for you.”

 

Sigrid just stared.  “What?  Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!”  Fíli might not actually be exempt from her anti-man declaration after all, if he thought he could just show up unannounced, even if he did star in her daydreams.  “And I hope you know how disconcerting it is to hear that someone armed to the teeth has been waiting for you to cross their path, _by the way.”_

 

“I know, that’s-- That’s not what I meant.”  He frowned now and looked down at his hands .  “Your sister wrote me, actually.  She told me it was your birthday today.”  

 

“What? Tilda?”

 

“Aye, she wrote me a letter a few weeks ago, said it was for school.  It was rather sweet, to tell you the truth.  She told me a bit about school, and,” he chuckled, “apparently the good Mrs. Rosedon doesn’t believe we’re friends.  I owe her a letter back to prove we are, she says.  Well, she says a lot of things, your sister.  So she ended up mentioning your birthday -”

 

“Wait, wait, what was that?”  Sigrid sat up straight and folded her arms across her chest.  “What do you mean, ‘she says a lot of things’?  What else did she tell you?”  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “Don’t you try to talk around it.”  

 

“Well, she… She may have mentioned something about how elderly you’re getting, at all of twenty-two.”  

 

“And she told you when my birthday was,” she prompted, not terribly thrilled to think about the age gap between them that his jab referenced.

 

“Mmhmm.  It wasn’t out of the blue, she was just talking about how she couldn’t wait for strawberry pie, and she didn’t think she’d have any ‘til your birthday, which was on the last day of the month.  And then, would I come down to visit, because it had been a long time since we last saw each other.”

 

“Oh, Valar,” Sigrid moaned, holding her face in her hands, elbows on the table.  “I swear, that girl is going to get it one day.  But you--” she raised her head and rested her chin on her fists, thinking through the strange circumstances aloud. _“You_ should know better.  Why didn’t you write?  Or at the very least go to the house, where you’d be more likely to find me, rather than waiting around in a market I might not visit today.”  She paused a moment, considering, then fixed him with a stern look.  “There’s something else, isn’t there?  She told you something else, what was it?”  She leaned forward over the table, watching him for any sign he was trying to avoid the answer.

 

Fíli hesitated, but at Sigrid’s stern look he crumpled.  “It isn’t my business, Sigrid, but Tilda just mentioned it in her letter, I’m really not trying to stick my nose in it…”

 

_“What,_ Fíli?” she hissed.

 

“Tilda said that now things were settling down in Dale, word was getting around about your… eligibility.  That you were starting to entertain suitors.  That’s why I didn’t go by the house, I didn’t want to… Didn’t want to interrupt anything.  And I didn’t write, because every time I put pen to paper the words wouldn’t come, not even to simply say _‘Oh hello Sigrid, it’s been ages, how about I stop by?’_ , because I had no idea what to say next except that--” Fíli shifted, deeply uncomfortable.  “Anyway, here we are.”

 

Sigrid dropped her head back down to the table.  Her face and ears felt like they were on fire.  She was sure her neck was splotchy too.  Valar take her little sister and throw her in the lake!  “For shit’s sake,” she whined into her arms.

 

She heard Fíli move, a crackle of paper, and a sliding sound as he pushed something across the table at her.  “I’m sorry if I completely ruined things, but I do hope you have a happy birthday.”

 

Sigrid lifted her head to see a small item wrapped in brown paper and tied with a bit of twine.  “Oh, Fí, you didn’t have to…” Though it did not seem remotely possible, her face burned hotter as she realized she’d just used a nickname for the second most important Dwarf in Erebor.  Was it possible to die from too much blood to the head?

 

“It’s all right,” he murmured, though whether he meant the nickname or the gift she wasn’t sure.  “Go on, open it.”

 

So she tugged gently on one end of the bow and unwrapped the paper.  A hair comb, with teeth twisted out of what looked like gold wire, bound together and strengthened by a golden branch of fourteen finely textured leaves laid across the top.  “Oh…” she breathed, running a finger over the leaves.  “Fíli…  It’s gorgeous.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied happily, relaxing back on the bench.  

 

“Wait, Fí, did you make this?”

 

He nodded, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks.  “I didn’t think you would wear anything that was too ornate, or with stones or anything.  You work so hard all the time, I figured you’d worry about a stone falling out, or losing it, or it being too fancy and I…”  He looked at his feet.  “Well, I wanted you to wear it.”

 

She beamed at him.  “Let me guess,” she bounced her finger from leaf to leaf as she recited, “Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Óin, Glóin, Balin, Dwalin, Ori, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Bilbo.”

 

“Always knew you were sharp.  I don’t think we told you our names but once.”

 

“There’s a rhythm to it, and it’s easy to remember the thirteen Dwarves and sad little Hobbit who climbed out your privy.” She shrugged and started to let down her hair. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?  Don’t you want to help me put my new comb in my hair?”

 

Fíli’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, eyes wide.  “I… I, uh,... That is…”

 

Sigrid giggled, gathering her hair together and twisting it around her fingers.  “I’m just joking, Fíli, don’t worry.  I remember what you told Tilda the last time you were down here.”  She wrapped the twist around itself, securing the tail with the comb to make a bun high on her head.  “Well?  How does it look?”

 

“Beautiful.”  

 

She laughed again, shrugging off the too-serious compliment she absolutely asked for, and slipped the wrapping paper into her bag.  “Would you like to stay for dinner?”   _Would you like to stay forever?_

 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out.  It’s your birthday; you don’t have to invite me just to be nice.  If you don’t want company, I can head back.”

 

“Fíli, after the company I’ve had to keep for the past few months, yours would be a welcome respite,” Sigrid sighed and hauled herself up to her feet.  “Come with me.  I need to pick up a roast and get it in the oven.”  

 

~*~

 

As they closed the gate behind them, a young voice running a mile a minute filtered out the kitchen window.

 

“No, Da, I mean it when I say he was _horrid._  He smelled like he’d never even heard of a toothbrush!” Tilda exclaimed.  

 

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Sigrid muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at Fíli’s slightly bewildered look.

 

“And he tried to kiss Sig when he thought I wasn’t there,” Bain added, “I’d only stepped away to get his horse so he would leave already.”

 

Sigrid turned to hip-check her sticky front door open and caught a flash of something in Fíli’s eyes.  Jealousy?  But before she could examine it further the door swung open behind her and her momentum carried her into the house.  “All right, all right, stop talking about me like I’m not here, ‘cause I am now.  Bain, is the oven going?”

 

“Yeah,” he called from the kitchen.

 

“Make sure it’s nice and hot,” she answered, placing the purse of money in a chest in the entryway.  

 

Fíli tugged on the strap to his scabbards.  “I’m just gonna…”

 

Sigrid nodded and went into the kitchen.  Bain was finishing peeling the potatoes and Da was chopping them and putting them in a stock pot.  Both of them had their back to her.  Tilda was just bouncing around, her chores apparently done for the time being.  Sigrid started towards the cupboards for dishes, but was stopped by the conversation.

 

“Anyway, that isn’t even the best part,” Bain added with a laugh.  “Stromsen was saying things like, _‘I am going to write you, whether you like it or not.’_ ” His voice cracked as he tried to imitate the other man’s voice.  “ _‘And then you’re going to come visit and see All That Will Be Yours when you become my bride.’_  But then Sig says,” Bain interrupted himself, downright cackling, “But then Sig says, as queenly as you like, _‘How are you so sure to impress me when the treasure of Erebor lies in my back yard?’”_  

 

“Sigrid!” Bard admonished, though his eyes were laughing.

 

“Bain!  Da, you don’t--”

 

“Quite a bold claim from someone who’s never even come to visit,” Fíli teased, leaning against the doorway with one foot crossed in front of the other.  He’d removed his swords and outer coat, and now wore only a tunic and loose outer jacket with a dagger in his belt.

 

Shit.  Of _course_ he'd come through the door at  _just_ that moment.  Sigrid whirled around, free hand splayed open across her rapidly reddening face.  “I didn’t-- I only meant--  Hey everyone, Fíli’s here for dinner!”

 

“Prince Fíli!”  Bard wiped his hands on his pants and moved to shake with the Dwarf.  “To what do we owe the honor?”

 

“Fíli!” Tilda squealed, running over to him and tackling him in a hug.  “You made it!”

 

Sigrid’s eyes shot daggers at her brother, who winced apologetically.  She shoved the bag at him and hissed, “Clean and chop these and put them in a pan and you _might_ live to see your next birthday.”

 

“Of course I made it, lass,” Fíli was saying kindly, patting her on the head.  “I apologize for not writing ahead of time, Lord Bard, but Lady Tilda had invited me to visit and mentioned it would be Sigrid’s birthday.  I wanted to deliver my well-wishes myself.”

 

“Well,” Sigrid announced, “there will still be some time before dinner’s ready, why don’t you go have a pipe or something while I get to work,” _and hopefully I’ll drop dead before my siblings can embarrass me further._

“Yes, Fíli, let’s sit outside while there’s still a bit of warmth in the air, and you can tell me a bit about how things are shaping up Under the Mountain.”  Bard ushered Fíli back outside but Bain and Tilda stayed back.

 

“I knew it!” she declared proudly.  “I knew he’d come, because friends come to each other’s birthdays.  Take that, Mrs. Rosedon!”  

 

“Aye, you’ll have to get him to scribble a note to you before he leaves.  Now go outside,” Sigrid indulged.  She turned to the table to prepare the roast for the oven.  As she pulled the meat out of the paper, she felt Bain step closer behind her.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“What’s what?  Bain, don’t crowd me around a bleedin’ fire, dammit.”

 

“In your hair,” he clarified, poking the comb.  “It’s new, innit?”  Sigrid lamented he’d ever had that growth spurt.

 

“Shut up!  The window’s open!”

 

“Did Prince Fíli give that to you?” Bain leaned onto the table and propped himself up on his arms.  “He did, didn’t he?  You came in together.  Sig, are you and he…?”

 

“You’ll shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you.  Or I’ll tell Da where you actually are when you say you’re out ‘patrolling for Orcs’.”  Sigrid made the quote marks in the air despite her dirty hands.  “Something tells me Laurel will be none too pleased to hear that’s what you’ve been calling her.  And we are not…” she waved her hands vaguely.  “It’s Tilda’s fault anyway, she’s the one who wrote him.”

 

“Aye, I did,” the younger girl declared proudly.  “And you got a pretty present out of it so you shouldn’t make me feel bad.”  She paused, then something occurred to her.  “Sigrid, _did he kiss you?_  He’d be much nicer to kiss than Gavin Stromsen.”

 

“No!  Now get out of here before I strangle you both!”  

 

Tilda ran outside giggling, but Bain just sauntered backwards towards the door, waggling his eyebrows as he said, “Til’s right, you know.  He’d be much nicer to kiss.  Quite the match, you two: the Lady of Dale and Prince Under the Mountain.  Strengthen relations between the kingdoms, stay close to home…  You’d actually have that treasure to brag about.”  He pulled his pipe out of his pocket and cleaned the bowl out with a pinky.  “Not to mention the money we’d save when the gentlemen stopped calling.”

 

“Go. Away,” Sigrid growled as she put the roast in the pan with the vegetables and slammed the oven door.  “Go away fast, go away now.”  

 

“All right, all right,” Bain raised his hands in defeat and rolled out the kitchen door and onto the front porch.

 

Sigrid poured some water into a basin and washed her hands of the spices and meat juice.  What an absolute wreck of a birthday.  She had enough to worry about without Bain and Tilda sticking their nose in about whom she should marry.  

 

She shook her head and pulled dishes out of the cupboard to set the table.  It made no matter.  Tonight was her birthday and she was going to have a nice dinner and then send everyone away so she could read or do her mending or something in peace, so help her.

 

~*~

 

It was nearly dark when dinner, and then pie and presents, had finally wrapped up.  Bain had given her a new set of embroidery needles and some beautiful thread from Lórien, and Tilda had (with Da’s help) given her some stationery and a new quill.  Everything had tasted wonderful, of course, and now it was time for her siblings to clean up as Fíli got ready to leave.  Once his coat was on and weapons all back in their places, Fíli offered his hand up to Da.  

 

“Thank you for opening your home to me again, Lord Bard,” he said solemnly.  “I had a wonderful time with you and your family.”

 

“And I as well--” Da began, but was interrupted by a squeal from the kitchen.  “Please excuse me,” he muttered and rushed back inside.  “Bain!  Leave Tilda alone!”

 

Sigrid just rolled her eyes. “Will you ride home tonight?  It occurs to me now I don’t even know where you kept your pony.”

 

“No, I’m staying at the Flying Fish,” he answered, though he made no move toward the door.  “I’ll head out at first light.”

 

“Ah, they’ll take good care of you there,” Sigrid replied, toying with the string on her skirt.  “Thank you for coming, Fíli.  You really made my day better.  The comb is beautiful, I love it.”

 

He smiled up at her.  “I’m glad.  It sounds like your morning was...stressful.”

 

Sigrid rolled her eyes and walked out the door onto the porch.  When Fíli followed, closing the door behind him, she walked further out down towards their gate.  “Every time someone comes to call it’s stressful.  They almost never really care about me, about who I really am, because all they’re interested in is the politics.  Sometimes it seems even my looks are just some surprisingly pleasant bonus tacked on at the end.”  She hesitated, trying to find the words, but gave up.  “At least Da isn’t pressuring me.  Sometimes I think he just doesn’t want anything to change, after all we’ve been through.”

 

She met Fíli’s gaze and found sympathy.  “I field letters every other week or so,” he confided, “from parents sometimes, but often from the potential bride herself.  I’m nearly into my eighty-fifth year; Dwarves from all over are eager to join with the Line of Durin, now we have a home again.”  Fíli laughed half-heartedly.  “Kíli will be old enough for his braids next year, and therefore ready to wed Tauriel.  So he’s badgering me too, he doesn’t want to have to wait for me.”

 

Sigrid stood at the gate now, holding it with both hands as she processed the information.  “You have to go first, since you’re the eldest?”

 

“Aye,” he answered quietly, holding her gaze for a long moment.  

 

The air hung heavy around them, and Sigrid was struck with the feeling that it all was getting too intense too quickly.  She drummed her hands on the gate and pulled it open.  “Well.  That’s good to know.  Will you write me again?  It will be nice to hear from someone who kind of knows what I’m going through.”  

 

“I will.  And I really mean it when I say you should come pay a visit.”  Fíli stepped through the gate and placed his hand over hers when she shut it between them.  “I’ll talk to Thorin, and I’ll write you.”  His thumb rubbed circles over the top of her hand.

 

Butterflies launched in Sigrid’s stomach as she stared at their hands.  She blinked back up to his eyes and murmured,  “I should like that very much.”  There were quite a few things that Sigrid would like very much, actually, and at the moment all of them were eclipsed by the thought of Fíli’s hand sliding up to her cheek and his lips on hers, whiskers brushing rough against her mouth.

 

But he pulled away, yanking her out of her reverie, and rapped his knuckles once on the fence as he turned his body towards the road.  “Then I’ll make it so.  Happy birthday, Sigrid.  Sleep well.”

 

“Th-- Thank you, Fíli.  Valar keep you safe on your travels tomorrow.”  She was glad the darkness hid her disappointment, and the flush on her cheeks from how embarrassed she was that she even expected anything at all.

 

He turned and gave her one last wave over his shoulder as he headed down the road toward the inn.  She groaned, smacked the gate and went back inside, fully intending to go right upstairs to bed where no one was around to judge her.  Unfortunately her da stood at the the foot of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Goodnight, Da,” she grumbled and tried to push past him, but a firm hand on her shoulder made her step back.  “What?”

 

“New hairpiece?” he asked gently.

 

Sigrid heaved an exaggerated, frustrated sigh.  “Didn’t Bain and Tilda tell you everything already anyway?  Why do I have to explain everything away?  Can’t I have one little thing to myself?”

 

“Oh, sweet thing,” Bard sighed and pulled her into a hug, even as she resisted halfheartedly.  “You can and you can’t.  You’re savvy enough to understand how this would look to someone else,” he prompted, resting his cheek on the top of her head.  When she didn’t rise to the bait he added,  “You’re wearing a gift from the Prince of Erebor, Sig, not some trifle from a girlfriend.”  He paused and released her.  Sigrid stepped back, conflict written across her face.  “Is this why you haven’t liked anyone who’s come to call?’

 

She fixed him with an open-mouthed stare.  “You have _got_ to be kidding me, Da.  You’ve met them!  Most of them, anyway, and you’ve seen what a right load of shit they all are.”

 

“Ssh, Sig, I was just asking--” he glanced up the stairs meaningfully.

 

“Well Tilda damn well told Fíli we were entertaining suitors in that letter she wrote him” she hissed, fighting to keep her voice down, “so if he was interested, he’d have done something about it by now.”

 

“Maybe he just did.”

 

“Don’t be ridicul--”  Sigrid stopped short, remembering how uncomfortable he’d been discussing what had recently been taking up so much of her time, how bashfully he’d presented his gift to her, how he’d said he wanted her to wear it.  “Did he say something to you out there on the porch?”

 

“No,” Bard said patiently, “though it was pretty obvious from how he looks at you, he thinks you hang the stars.”

 

She pursed her lips, then quietly admitted, “He did say he’s going to ask King Thorin, and invite me to visit Erebor.”  Bard raised his eyebrows, and it all fell into place for her.  “I suppose I was so used to the way all those stupid Men were going about things I couldn’t even imagine someone might actually--” _court me the way I want to be courted? Care about what I have to say?  Treat me like a person, not like property?_  “--try a different approach.”

 

“Well, we’ll discuss what to do when the raven comes,” her da replied, hugging her tightly once more and kissing the top of her head.  “Now go to bed.  You’ve had quite an eventful day.”

  
Sigrid nodded silently and went to her room.  She stripped to her small clothes, pulled the comb out of her hair and placed it gently on her dresser, and slipped between the covers.  Only then did she allow an indulgent grin to spread across her face.  She was sure now.  Fíli had been asking to court her, and she was already so taken with him it had never even occurred to her to say no. 


	6. Forward

_“So,_ how did it go?” Kíli cooed, ambushing Fíli as soon as he walked through the door leading to the living quarters.  He clapped his hands on Fíli’s shoulders, bouncing back and forth behind him, craning his neck around to see Fíli’s reaction.  “Did she like it?”  

 

“Mahal, Kíli, settle down,” Fíli grumbled,  “I literally just got here.”

 

“Well?  Did she?  Did she put it in her hair?”  Kíli paused for a moment, waggled his eyebrows.  “Or did _you_ do it?”

 

Fíli shoved his brother hard as he kept walking towards his chambers.  “Shut up, you little goat.  No I did not.  Just because you have your fingers twisted up in that Elf’s locks every day doesn’t mean I’m going to risk screwing this up like that.”

 

“Ah ah _ahh!_  So there’s something to screw up!”

 

Fíli felt his ears burn.

 

“I knew it!  No daughter of Dwarf, Elf, or Man can resist a Lad of Durin!”  Kíli crowed with laughter and followed his brother into his rooms.  “Tell me everything.”

 

Fíli rolled his eyes as he took off his swords and unloaded the daggers hidden in his coat.  “All right, well, I saw her in the marketplace.  And we talked a bit, she got out of me that Tilda had written me, which absolutely mortified her,” Fíli sighed, “so before I could muck it up any worse I gave her the comb--”

 

“So did she like it?  Did she figure out the leaf thing?”

 

“Aye, she did actually.  And remembered all our names to boot,”  he smiled, and felt the tips of his ears start burning again.  “She put it in her hair right away.”  

 

Kíli nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised.  “Nice.”

 

“So then she invited me to dinner, and I went, and when I was leaving I invited her to come visit here… And she said she would, and she looked at me like…” Fíli trailed off, remembering the feel of her soft hands under his callouses, how she’d looked at him, how her lips had parted, just a bit.  He let out a breath, shaking his head.  

 

“Wow, Fi,” Kíli smirked.  “You’ve got it bad.”

 

Fíli didn’t even have it in him to argue this time.  

 

~*~

 

_Lady Sigrid of Dale, to Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain_

_I am writing this to you as a man from Edoras, in Gondor, sits in my parlor drinking my wine and planning our wedding, if I know the look in his eye.  Not that I’ve agreed to anything, mind, nor my Da, but he is surely adamant about things.  In truth,  Da has done his best to gently decline any offers.  I told him I was sick of meeting strangers for now.  I’m sure word will get around and things will be whispered, but I don’t care, I’m done with the lot of them._

_Yet Eolan is here, having traveled all this way - having sent no raven ahead of him, I’ll add -  to propose a trade route through the Brown Lands and up Celduin to Dale.  I’m sure he’s also to report back about me.  I’m trying to appear very studious, pretending I’m taking notes on his and Da’s discussion and so forth, but mostly that’s just to keep me busy as Eolan’s manner of speaking bores me to death._

_Besides all this, I have been able to get back to the kitchens down by the market, which I very much enjoy.  I’m happy to say that even as the weather starts to cool we’re seeing fewer people.  When I ask about it it seems that people are finding work, pulling together to fix up homes for each other and such.  It feels like we’re actually healing._

_Well I must be getting back to the proceedings.  Eolan’s proposing something unbearably stupid so it’s time to set him right - King Thranduil would never allow a new road carved through Mirkwood, and Dale’s not about to support such a move either.  Da may have a special...rapport with King Thranduil but even that won’t get it done._

_I’m quite looking forward to seeing you again.  Hope all is well, and that the Valar keep you, Kíli, and everyone Under the Mountain safe._

_Always,_

_Sig_

__  
  


Fíli lowered the letter and looked across the table at his brother, who was currently mowing down a breakfast of porridge and sausages.  “Ki, can I ask you something?”

 

“Wha?”  he answered through a mouth full of food.

 

“What did Thorin say when you told him you were courting Tauriel?”  Fíli thought for a moment, then added, “Or, whatever you want to call it.”  In Fíli’s opinion they weren’t _courting_ so much as _might as well already be wed for all the time they spend making googly eyes at each other._  

 

Kíli shrugged and speared another sausage link.  “I dunno.”  He took a bite, chewed, and added,  “I didn’t really say anything, I just,” he swallowed, “kept bringing her around, I suppose.  

 

Fíli furrowed his brow as he looked down at the paper in his hands.  “Well, you’re a load of help.”

 

“Why?” Kíli asked, before his brain caught up.  “Oh.  Oh!  Is that letter from her?”

 

“Well, yes…  I want her to come here, see what we’ve made of the place, but--” he groaned as Kíli reached over and snatched the letter out of his hands.  “Hey, give that back!  Do you see your name on it anywhere?”

 

“Aye, right there on the end,” he pointed, grinning from ear to ear.  Fíli groaned as his brother made a big show of holding it up to the light and out of his reach.  “This girl’s too smart for you, Fi.  Sounds like she gave up waiting for you to make the first move.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she shows up at our front door with courting beads in her hand, regardless of any formal invitation from our uncle.”

 

“Don’t be stupid.”

 

“She specifically wrote you to tell you that she’d stopped seeing suitors.  ‘I’m done with the lot of them,’ she says.  And look.” Kíli turned the paper around and pointed to the top right-hand corner of the paper.  “She wrote this only two days after you left, Fi.   _She likes you,”_ he sang.

 

“Mahal, Kíli, can you please be serious for more than two seconds?  This is important.  How am I going to talk to Thorin about this?”

 

“Talk to me about what?” Thorin rumbled as he came through the kitchens into the small, side dining room in which the brothers had been arguing.  “What are you two bickering about?  I could hear you halfway down the hall.”  He sat down heavily on the bench beside Kíli and whipped his hair out of the way as he tucked into his own breakfast.  

 

Fíli tugged the letter out of Kíli’s hand as surreptitiously as he could manage and slid it into his pocket.  No time but the present, apparently.  “Well, I’ve been thinking…” His mind blanked.  What had he been thinking?  He grasped around his brain for any combination of words that could remotely make sense.  

 

“Yes…?” Thorin prompted, hunched over his plate.  “Spit it out.”  He met Fíli’s gaze and raised his eyebrows.    
  


Fíli looked to Kíli, who nodded encouragingly, then took a deep breath and announced, “I have met someone I’d like to court, um, and I thought I should talk to you first, especially because I’d like to extend a formal invitation for her to come here to Erebor and visit.”  He hesitated, unsure how much Thorin knew already or even wanted to know.

 

Thorin sat back from the table and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Fíli, you aren’t even 85.  Why bother with this?”

 

“I… What?”  Fíli looked between Kíli, who looked as confused as he felt, and Thorin, who just looked, well, grumpy.

 

“Why have you been looking about for a wife already, instead of the myriad other things I’ve asked you to do?  We have a kingdom to run.”  Thorin grouched.

 

“Wait a minute, Uncle,” Kíli broke in,  but Fíli cut him off.

 

“I haven’t been _looking--_ ”

 

Thorin fixed his stare on Fíli, effectively ending the argument.  His eyebrows furrowed into one great dark mass under his crown.  “It’s Bard’s girl.”  

 

Fíli nodded, though it wasn’t a question.  “Yes…?”

 

“I’m not daft, Fíli.  I know how often you go down there, and it’s no secret you haven’t returned any of those ravens we’ve been getting from the Blue Mountains or anywhere else.  Not that I blame you,” he muttered as an afterthought.  “You wouldn’t feel the need to ask my permission, either, if it were one of them.  You both are just like your mother, wearing your hearts on your sleeves.”  Thorin went back to his breakfast as Fíli and Kíli shared another look.   _He’s one to talk._

 

“So… is that a… yes?”  Fíli asked after a moment.

 

“She’s a daughter of Men, Fíli.  How is that going to work, exactly?”

 

Kíli grinned.  “Tauriel and I don’t seem to have any trouble.  I doubt it’d be much different.”

 

Fíli kicked him under the table, but Thorin shook his head.  “Not what I meant.  She has to be, what, twenty?”

 

“Twenty-two,” Fíli answered quietly.

 

“Twenty-two.  That’s where the rush comes in, hm?  Well into marrying age for Men, and she’s been receiving offers, I’m sure.”  Without waiting for a response, Thorin continued,  “But twenty-two is mere childhood for a Dwarf.  You have been alive almost four times as long as she has, and are likely to live many years beyond her.  Are you prepared for that?  What about the bairns?  --If your union even can produce heirs.”

 

Fíli’s spirits sunk as Thorin spoke.  Sure, he was a little young to be married, as far as Dwarves go, but it wasn’t unheard of.  And did Thorin seriously think that Fíli hadn’t already driven himself mad thinking of everything that could go wrong with this courtship?  It had always been in Thorin’s nature to care more for the legacy of the line of Durin than the actual members of it.  

 

Thorin was selfish.  That’s all it was, and he’d shown it countless times since they’d first left Bag End.  Though the dragon sickness had left him, its marks were still apparent given his supposed concern over Fíli’s progeny.

 

Fíli took a slow breath before he spoke, trying to phrase his response carefully.   “She is a daughter of Men, aye, but I could die in battle and she outlive me.  Nothing is ever certain.  Besides, a little extra favor toward Dale may not hurt our kingdom.  Let me court Lady Sigrid.  Please.”

 

Thorin scraped the last of his porridge out of his bowl, swallowed it, and let the spoon clatter onto the table.  “Very well,” he answered, as if something had just occurred to him.  “I will write to Bard and invite him and his family to Erebor.  There will be much to discuss with him if the girl is agreeable to the match.”

 

Kíli whooped, jumping out of his seat.  “Haha!  I told you, Fi, didn’t I tell you?”

 

“And not a damned one of the sons of Durin takes a dwarrowdam to wife,” Thorin muttered as he stood up from the table.  “All right, begone with you,”  he snapped, shooing them out of his way.  “Balin and I have our work cut out for us now.”

 

Fíli rose and reached out to clasp Thorin’s shoulder.  “Thank you, Uncle.  I really mean it.”  Then he let Kíli drag him out through the kitchens, smiling from ear to ear.

 

~*~

_Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain, to the Lady Sigrid of Dale,_

_I’m very glad you wrote me, as I have had raven after raven with no happy news nor kind conversation, just requests and demands.  Yet I have good news for you:  I spoke with my uncle and Thorin is sending a formal invitation to Bard and your whole family, to visit Erebor.  I wanted to tell you directly, before any official letter made it out to you._

_I won’t deny, Thorin is being a little prickly but he is usually like that, and I’m doing my best to make sure all necessary plans are in place ahead of time so he can stay calm.  (Well, as calm as he ever gets.)_

_I am looking forward to showing you the progress we have made rebuilding the halls after the Great Wyrm destroyed so much.  Those who were here before Smaug’s arrival say Erebor is even grander than before.  It is finally starting to feel like home._

_Once you have received word from Thorin, please let us know when you are coming, and if there is anything you might need once you arrive._

_Mahal and the Valar keep you safe and speed your way._

_Yours,_

_-F_

__  
  


~*~

 

Horns sounded as the doors to the Great Hall swung open.  Fíli, along with his brother, followed Thorin out to greet the party from Dale.  Behind him, Fíli could hear Bifur, Bombur, and Balin divvying up responsibilities.  Between the two great stone Dwarves stood Bard and Bain astride a pair of tawny horses with black manes.  Another pony was tethered to the back of each of their saddles, one laden with fabric and the other with various foodstuffs.  Gifts, he supposed.  Sigrid rode a dappled white mare, sitting behind her sister, who practically vibrated with delight.  Fíli felt the last ditch effort of summer coming in from the plains and hoped Thorin would make this particular welcome speech shorter than his usual.

 

“Lord Bard,” Thorin boomed, taking full advantage of the extra acoustic help the stone arch provided.  “I, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, welcome you to the Kingdom Under the Mountain.  For many years the Men of Lake Town, now of Dale, and the Line of Durin have lived in close proximity, yet now let us recommit ourselves to working together, as…”

 

Fíli’s attention waned almost immediately.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Sigrid.  The wind had reddened her cheeks which made her eyes shine.  Golden brown curls framed her face, and she tried in vain to push them back as she shushed Tilda.  She looked back up from her sister, meeting his eyes.  A grin spread across her face and Fíli felt himself do the same.  Warmth spread all the way down to his toes.  She was so beautiful.  

 

A quick jab to the kidney jolted his attention away and to his brother who smirked and jerked his head towards the King.  “...So let us now get you settled in, and we can eat shortly.  Fíli and Kíli will show you to your rooms.  Bifur and Bombur can tend to your horses.  Welcome.” Thorin turned abruptly, cape whirling behind him as he strode back inside.  

 

“Warm and inviting as ever, our Thorin,” Kíli muttered as the guests dismounted.  Bain and Bard went first; Tilda fell easily into her brother’s waiting arms, barely touching the ground before she ran over to Kíli to tackle him in a hug. Sigrid braced herself on Bain’s shoulders and slid out of the saddle, immediately busying herself with a saddlebag.  Fíli shook Bain’s hand when he offered it.

 

“Welcome, Bain, I’m very glad you could make the journey.”  

 

“I as well!  We were all very pleased to receive King Thorin’s invitation,” Bain answered, then turned to the other Dwarf.  “Kíli!  It has been too long.  Til, dammit, let him breathe!”

 

As Bain walked over to pry Tilda off the younger Dwarf, Fíli stepped over to Sigrid.  “Hello, Sigrid,” he murmured.  

 

She turned, having released her bag from the saddle.  “Fíli,” she breathed, smiling. “I am so glad to be off that horse!”  Sigrid patted its rear as Bifur led the horse to the stables.

 

“It’s really good to see you,” he answered quietly.  “Come, let’s get inside so you can cool off.”  Kíli had already headed off toward the visitor’s living quarters with Bain, Bard, and Tilda, so Fíli took his time walking with Sigrid.  “Did you run into any trouble on your way?”

 

“Naught but the wind and sun,”  she answered cheerily.

 

Fíli touched the small of her back gently to turn her into a hallway.  “It’s this way to the living quarters.  You can tell this is the hallway you want because of the design cut into the wall.”  He let his hand fall away and added, “It is hard finding your way around under here when you’re used to having the sky to guide you.  I’ll try to point out different markings and such, but you mustn’t feel bad if you need to ask your way.”

 

The hallway ended in a wide, round cavern, its dark rock walls ringed with sleekly carved doorways.  They rose several stories with a multitude of criss-crossing bridges and staircases to hasten travel.  Here and there a small light bobbed around in mid-air, indicating a Dwarf high above them, crossing the expanse of the atrium on their way home.

 

Sigrid stopped short.   “This is huge,” she breathed.  “I can’t even see to the top, Fi.  How high does it go?”  

 

Fíli caught a flash of gold in her hair as she tilted her head all the way back.  “There are ten stories right now, though we could cut further up or down if we needed to,” he smiled.  She was wearing his gift to her.  “Because of the bridges, the dragon couldn’t fit, so he left this area pretty well alone.  All we needed to do was get them cleaned out.  The visitor’s hall is the first floor, and then Kíli, Tauriel and I are on the third floor.”  A squeal of laughter rang out, echoing all the way up the chamber.  “Sounds like Tilda’s found your rooms.”

 

Sigrid rolled her eyes.  “We’ll have to have a talk about acoustics if we all want to stay sane.”

 

Footsteps slapped on the stone floor.  Tilda came running across the room, grinning and calling, “Sigrid, come see!”  She caught up to them and grabbed Sigrid’s hand.  “There’s two beds here, Sig!  And there’s a tub pool thing with _hot water already in!_  This place is amazing!”  

 

Sigrid laughed and let herself be pulled by her little sister to the room straight across from where they’d been standing.  Fíli followed a bit more slowly, letting the sounds of the child’s excitement wash over him.  There were never very many Dwarfish children at any one time, and there were none in Erebor at all, so it was rather nice to hear that much unbridled joy coming out of one person, bouncing off the walls and filling the place with happy noise.  Fíli arrived at their door, which hung ajar, and knocked on the frame. “Everything look all right for you?”

 

“Actually,” Sigrid answered with a teasing smile as she came from the bedchamber.  “You only gave us four pillows for each bed?  We’re definitely going to need ten.”

 

“Ah, my mistake.  I’ll definitely send for more.  Now would that be ten total or ten per bed?”

 

“What kind of question is that?  Per bed, _obviously.”_  

 

“I heard Men tell a legend about women like you,” he warned.  “Something about princesses and peas?”

 

“Oh?  Pray tell, what do you know of that, Dwarf?”

 

He peered behind her to see Tilda making a fort out of the pillows and blankets.  Raising an eyebrow, he decided to take a gamble. “I know that this prince won’t be taking such a woman as that for a wife any time soon.”  

 

Sigrid’s smile dropped in surprise, and Fíli felt his ears burn.  He’d pushed his luck too far this time, he knew it.  Kíli had been wrong, they’d both completely misread the situation, Sigrid had no intention of marrying anyone at all, let alone him.

 

“Well,” she folded her arms across her chest, recovering quickly, “I’m just a Lady, not a princess.  And it’s a bit early to be speaking of marrying anyone, Prince Fíli.  So we’ll be having those pillows then.”  She winked at him and smiled, and Fíli felt a rush of relief.

 

“At your service.”  He bowed low and spun on his heel, eager to retreat before he made a damn fool of himself.  He was still in the game after all, but he wanted to find Kíli as quick as he could.  Sigrid probably didn’t expect, but he fully intended on providing her with the pillows she asked for, and then some.

 

The first night of Bard’s family’s visit was a calm affair, with only a modest dinner to welcome them in.  Traveling in groups was always difficult, so the bigger plans for feasting and dancing were set aside for the second night.  Fíli was grateful for this, as it gave him the chance to follow through on his plan after dinner.   He and his brother raided every spare linen closet they could find, and filled a large laundry cart with pillows.  Thorin and Balin had taken the visitors to see the rest of the Mountain, the forges, gold room, mines and such, so Fíli figured they had plenty of time.  He would have liked to be there to show off his home but he had a feeling this would be worth it.

 

Once their cart was full, the brothers headed to Sigrid and Tilda’s room and let themselves in.  There was an antechamber with two sofas and an armchair, and behind it lay the bedchamber with two tall (for Dwarves anyway) four-poster beds.  

 

“Hm, I wonder, Fi,” Kíli started as he unloaded pillows from the cart.  “Which sister chose which bed?”  

 

It was laughably obvious.  One had two bags neatly placed at the foot, the other was an absolute wreck.  The bedclothes were pushed halfway off the bed, one pillow was on the floor, the rest set up as if to shield someone in the bed from the other, and a bag of Tilda-sized clothes had exploded all over.   

 

“Come on, Ki, we have to move fast.”  In no time they had emptied the cart onto Sigrid’s bed, stacking them carefully as if to create an additional mattress three feet thick.  They drew the curtains of the canopy around the bed to keep the pillows in place, and ran back to laundry to return the cart.

 

“I bet they’ll be coming back to the Great Hall right about now,” Kíli grinned.  “Let’s see if we can’t catch them up.”

 

Surely enough, Thorin, Bard, Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda, as well as Balin, Nori, and Ori, were crossing the Great Hall and approaching the hallway to the living quarters.  “Fíli!” Tilda exclaimed.  “This place is so big!  I bet I would get lost _every day_ if I lived here!”  

 

“Oh no, I don’t expect so,” he replied as he reached the other party.  “You really do get used to it.”

 

Bain and Bard were still deep in conversation with the other Dwarves, but Tilda was obviously fading fast.  “Come on, Til, it’s been a long day.”  Sigrid sighed, then prompted in a sing-song voice,  “So what do we say to King Thorin?”

 

“Thank you for inviting us to come visit!” Tilda chimed, running to curtsy in front of him.  “This is _so cool._ ”  

 

He nodded silently, somewhat puzzled at her outburst.

 

Sigrid sighed and placed her hands on Tilda’s shoulders.  “Thank you, King Thorin.  Now please excuse us.”  She began to steer Tilda away from the rest of the group, but headed towards the wrong hallway.

 

Fíli reached out and touched her elbow.  “It’s the other one,” he murmured gently.  “With the crossed warhammers.”  He walked with her down the hallway, back to their quarters.  Faced with a room full of identical doors, she hesitated again.  “Fourth door from the left,” he prodded.  He vaguely registered his brother jogging down the hall to catch up with them, and bit the inside of his cheek, schooling his features carefully.  When Sigrid opened the door, Tilda raced in ahead of her, but she hung back.

 

“Thank you for making this happen,” she said, looking down at her fidgeting hands.  “It feels wonderful to get out of that house for a little bit.”

 

Adrenaline from the prank lending him confidence, he reached out and took one of her hands in his.  He ran his thumb over her knuckles, then brought them to his lips for a kiss.  “I really hope you like it here.”  He lowered his hand but did not let go of hers, and took half a step forward.  It would be so easy to--

 

“Ah, Fíli!  Glad I caught you,” Kíli said as he reached the doorway

 

Fíli fought to keep his frustration from showing as he dropped her hand.  “Yes, hello, brother.  I was just on my way to see you.  Goodnight, Sigrid.”

 

“Goodnight, Fíli.  And you as well, Kíli,” she answered with a small smile, then closed the door quietly.

 

“Sleep well,” Kíli called as the door clicked shut, barely able to keep his grin in check.  The two brothers turned and headed towards the staircase to their own quarters but barely made it ten feet before they heard the door open again.

 

“You two think you’re funny, do you?”  Sigrid called after them.  “Oi, don’t you walk away from me like that!  What am I supposed to do with all this??”

 

Kíli’s shoulders shook with the effort it took to contain his laughter.  Fíli spun around and walked backwards as he replied, arms open, “We want your stay to be as comfortable as possible, my Lady.  ‘Twas only an effort to honor the spirit of your request.”

 

Shaking her head she hollered back, “Oh, curse the both of you!” but there was no venom in it.  Sigrid laughed and closed the door again, leaving the brothers to collapse in a fit of giggles.

 

“Well, that went well,” Kíli gasped as they climbed the stairs.  “Glad to know my future sister-by-marriage is able to take a joke.”

 

“Don’t get too ahead of things,”  Fíli warned.

  
Kíli paused at the door to his rooms.  “Don’t be absurd.  This is happening.  So get your ass in gear, make her beads tomorrow, and after the feast put the charm on.”  At Fíli’s frown, he tsked and explained in a much put-upon tone, “Dance with her.  Dance with Tilda too, but then offer to take Sigrid to get some air or something.  Take her out the Moon Door and show her the stars, compare them to her eyes or some crap like that, and ask her outright, you moron.  Then once she agrees and Thorin, Bard and you all work out terms, you can give her the courting braid before she leaves.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Fíli protested weakly.

 

Kíli opened his door and stepped into his quarters.  “It really, really is,” he answered, and shut the door in Fíli’s face.

  
  



	7. Gold in Her Hair, Smile on Her Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an explicit scene at the beginning of this chapter. If you would like to skip it, search (ctrl+f probably) for "After a long day" or just the break symbols of "~*~". Sorry I don't know better html to make it easier on you. <3

Sigrid woke to the sound of Tilda creating the biggest pillow fort she’d ever seen.  The pillows Fíli and Kíli had… delivered… to their room were stacked into walls, furniture, whatever Tilda could imagine, all around Tilda’s side of the room.  She tried to roll over but found her progress impeded by the rest of the pillows her sister hadn’t needed.  Sigrid sighed and rolled the other direction, swinging her feet off the edge of the bed so she could sit up and stretch.  

 

Tilda looked up from her construction project, grinning.  “Oh good!  You’re awake.”

 

“Barely,” she answered through a yawn.  “I’m going to take a bath and see if that doesn’t wake me up a bit more, all right?  Yell if you need anything.”  Sigrid dug under the pillows on the floor and came back up with her bag which contained her toiletries.  “But promise me you _won’t_ need anything.  Or go next door and bug Da.”

 

“Don’t bother you.  Got it.”

 

“Good.”

 

Besides the door to the antechamber, there was another door to the side of their bedroom which led to the most ornate bath Sigrid had ever seen.  As Tilda had reported, a pool had been carved into the floor, fed with warm water by hot springs underground.  There were soft towels stacked against one wall, and a vanity with a clear, flat mirror on the other.  Sigrid shut the door and leaned against it for a moment.  Blessed solitude.  Something she’d been missing dearly for some time.

 

She slipped out of her nightdress and took the steps down into the warm water.  When she sat down on the floor of the pool, the water reached to just under her breasts, but the pool was some six feet across, so there was room for her to lean back and sink completely under.  She held her breath, feeling the movement of the water into her ears, of her long hair flowing out around her, tickling her arms.  It had been ages since she just floated like this.  Every other foray into the water she’d had since she was about twelve mainly served to haul fishing nets into her father’s barge, or pull up some child who’d fallen into the Long Lake.  This was bliss.

 

Sigrid let her face rise again above the surface of the water and let her thoughts wander back to Fíli.  Oh, he’d gotten her good last night, that was true.  She couldn’t say she hadn’t asked for it though.  Laughing quietly to herself she recalled how serious he’d been right up until she’d closed the door and found his prank waiting for her.  He’d kissed her hand again that night, and she wondered what would have happened if Kíli hadn’t shown up.  His eyes had gone dark, he’d leaned in...  She felt a familiar swoop low in her stomach.  She knew what she’d have liked to have happen.

 

Sitting up, she reached out of the tub and dug around in her bag for the perfumed, creamy soap she’d bought before the trip.  As she scrubbed it into her hair she closed her eyes, picturing his cheeky smile when she’d hollered at him from her door.  He was too handsome for his own good. _Or mine,_ she thought with a huff.  It was driving her crazy, the pace he was setting.  Fíli hadn’t even kissed her yet!  Was she supposed to think something of that?  She’d only had one walk and a pint with Callyn Fefferman, and he’d tried to go all the way.  Maybe it was a Dwarf thing?  After months of letters going back and forth she thought she’d come to understand him.  He wasn’t so much like Thorin, as she’d initially thought.  No, he was kind, considerate, empathetic, and generally capable of expressing several additional feelings besides “annoyance” and “anger.”  So why hadn’t he showed her that he wanted her?

 

Once the soap had made its way through her hair, Sigrid ducked down under the water to rinse.  Maybe it _was_ a Dwarf thing.  In one of his letters Fíli had mentioned that there were far fewer female Dwarves than male, so they made all their own decisions when it came to courting.  She blew bubbles lazily.  If only Men were like that. At least her Da had no desire to sell her off, like she’d seen happen to the few well-to-do daughters of Lake Town.  

 

No, she just had to play her cards right and make sure he knew she wanted him.  Oh, how she wanted him.  Her dreams had been plagued by golden braids and leather gauntlets, pipe tobacco and strong, broad shoulders.  It seemed every morning had found her waking with a racing heart and dampened small clothes.  A bolt of arousal shot down from her chest right between her legs.  She listened carefully for a moment, trying to see if her sister was still around.

 

Hearing nothing, she slid a hand down her neck and chest, brushing a thumb over her nipple.  Sigrid sighed quietly and did it again.  Heat blossomed low in her belly and spread to the tips of her toes; it had been too long since she last had this kind of time to herself.  She spread her legs a bit and felt the warmth of the water against her sex.  Oh, it felt good.  She slipped her other hand down, down, trailing it over the jut of her hip bone, across the softness of her stomach and down even further, to the soft lips between her legs.  

 

As she stroked each side softly, her mind wandered back to her prince.  His fingers would be thicker than hers, calloused from work, but he would be so gentle with her.  He would kiss her everywhere, the beads in his mustache cold against her breast as he took the sensitive flesh in his mouth.  She pinched and twisted her nipple until she found the border of pain and pleasure, and a soft moan escaped her lips.  “Mmm, Fíli…”

 

She slipped a finger inside her, but it wasn’t enough so another quickly joined it as her thumb rolled over her clit.  Sparks burst behind her eyelids.  She arched her back, pressing the heel of her hand against that bundle of nerves as she crooked her fingers, hitting the spot inside her that forced the air from her lungs.   Sigrid rocked herself on her hand as she pictured Fíli instead between her legs.  His hand stroking up and down the soft lips of her sex, his fingers slipping inside her, his mouth on her breast.  

 

Her heart raced, and she felt tension building quickly in her back, thighs, and deep inside her.  Using her other hand to pull and pinch at her breast again, she quickened the flutter of her fingers, the roll of her wrist.  Sigrid gasped and imagined Fíli lying over her, guiding himself into her, pressing in until his hips snapped against hers.  She would tangle her fingers in his wavy hair, pulling him so close and he would move over her, gasping her name.  

 

She was so close it ached.  All she needed was a sharp pinch on her nipple, and the pain brought the most perfect satisfaction finally washing over her.  Sigrid struggled to keep quiet as she rode wave after wave, sighing heavily as she came down.  She lay there in the water as her breathing and heart beat slowed, shaking her hand out slowly to relieve the cramping that had started right at the end.  Too long indeed since last she’d scratched that itch.

 

Sigrid pushed her hair back behind her ears and rose out of the tub.  She’d really have to get going to meet the rest of her family for breakfast, probably.  Though the Dwarves had employed the same lanterns-and-mirrors tricks Under the Mountain as they had in the tents by the river, there was no sunlight to tell her what time it was.  Hopefully she wouldn’t be too far behind everyone else.

 

~*~

  
  


After a long day of mostly getting lost or finding things by accident, Sigrid was back in the bath room, standing behind Tilda who sat at the vanity.  “Sit still,” she admonished her sister, tugging on her hair.  “I’m almost done.”  With one last pin, Tilda’s hair was wrapped securely in twists on either side of her head that met in a bun.  “There.  Now it shouldn’t fall out.  Just keep your hands off it!”

 

Tilda jumped off the chair and hugged Sigrid tightly.  “Thank you, thank you!”

 

“You’re welcome,” she replied.  “Now get into your good dress and go find Da.  Tell him I’ll be out in a little bit.”

 

Now, it was her turn to get ready for the welcome feast.  She’d been working on a new dress for herself for some time, and had just barely gotten it done in time for their trip to the Mountain.  Standing in her nicest chemise, she looked at herself in the mirror.  Perhaps she needed more work than she thought.  So she sat down and pulled the pins out of her hair.  It had really gotten long, she thought as it tumbled down past her shoulders.  She’d wrapped and pinned her hair up right after her bath, so the middle was still a bit damp.  What to do with this mess?

 

The comb Fíli had given her sat on the vanity and Sigrid stared at it for a moment.  She really should do something different for the special occasion, but Tilda had not been wrong:  she was rubbish at braids.  It managed to upset her plans considerably since she didn’t want to accidentally advertise something that wasn’t true; curse those Dwarves and their special hair language.  So instead she pulled out some pieces of hair to frame her face and curled them around her fingers to bring the shape back.  Well, that was a start, anyway.  She pulled two big pieces of hair from her temples up to her crown, twisted them once and crossed them over each other, then secured it with the comb.

 

She shook her head to test how secure it was and, satisfied, wet her hands and scrunched some life back into the rest of her hair. Simple, but not bad, she thought, using the hand mirror on the vanity to check the back.  Her hair fell in loose waves, and the gold of the comb brought out the shine.  The Bargeman’s daughter sure could clean up nicely.  

 

She slipped her dress on over her chemise, careful of her hair.  The soft blue made her eyes look bluer too, she knew, and the bodice of this one actually fit, unlike the old cast-offs she had wrapped and belted around herself in Lake Town. Unfortunately, it laced up the back.  She spent a few seconds trying to reach around herself in vain, opting instead to pull on her stockings and shoes.  Someone could help her if she could get next door in time.  

 

“Tilda?  Bain?” she called, finding no one in her antechamber.  She left her rooms and knocked next door.  “Da?”

 

Bain opened the door, and Sigrid was struck by how much he had grown in the past year.  He was wearing his best shirt and jacket, hair combed back out of his eyes.  His face had slimmed down, sharpening his jaw line and making him actually look older than her, she thought.  “He’s already gone down, Sig, what do you need?”

 

“You look really nice,” she greeted him, then turned around to show him the back of her dress.  “I’m glad you’re still here.  I need help.”  Sigrid pulled her hair over her shoulder out of the way, revealing the loose laces.

 

“You sure do.  Who designed this thing anyway?” he teased gently as he pulled the crosses to tighten them.  “You need to find a husband to help you get in and out of this monstrosity.”

 

“Oh shut it,” she laughed under her breath.  “As if you can talk.  No woman’s going to want to get hitched to something that dresses like th- _oof!”_  A particularly strong tug from her brother sent her off balance.  “Oh come on, I need to be able to breathe!”

 

“You already said I looked nice, no take backs!”  Bain tied the ends of her laces in a bow and patted her back.  “All set.  Are you ready to go then?”

 

“I am,” she answered as she tugged on the bodice, adjusting herself so it fit comfortably over her curves.

 

“Then let’s go get lost together!” He laughed as he offered her his arm in an exaggerated display of gallantry.  

 

She took it, smirking, and they headed down the hallway to the Great Hall.  When they entered the hall, Sigrid saw Fíli hurrying towards them.  He was wearing a close-fitting jerkin of dark leather, four gold clasps keeping it closed in front and gold, diamond-shaped studs running down each side between the clasps.  A thick, intricately tooled belt was secured around his waist and he carried a short sword and two daggers in ceremonial scabbards. His freshly woven braids bounced behind him as he approached.

 

“Oh good, I was hoping to catch you before you got too far,” he called, still several yards off.  “I’m much too hungry to bear you losing your way to the Dining Hall.”

 

Sigrid smiled and raised her voice to reply,  “That’s fair enough.  I must confess I also am too hungry to find any enjoyment in wandering the halls of Erebor until chance should bring me where I want to go.”  She dropped her brother’s arm and dipped her knee in half a curtsy when Fíli neared.  “Thank you from saving us all from such a horrible fate.”

 

He had no answer for her; he was just staring, soft smile playing on his lips.  She flashed a nervous smile and tucked her hair behind one ear.  “Um,” she began, desperately trying to fill the silence.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fíli said abruptly.  “I just.  You look… You look amazing.”  

 

Sigrid’s face flamed and she looked down at her skirts.  “Thank you, it’s um… You too,” she fumbled, sure the smile on her face was less “gracious and confident” and more “manically nervous.”  Valar’s sake, she was twenty-two years old, why couldn’t she make small talk?

 

“Sigrid made her dress herself,” Bain offered cheerily, smoothing over the awkward pause.  “She’s always had a skill for it.  We could almost forget how poor we were, we looked so good in those repurposed rags.”

 

“Bain, I think you’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you?” she asked, looking from him back to her shoes.  

 

“Tsk tsk,” he clucked.  “You can never take a compliment.  Don’t know why I even bother, I swear.”

 

Sigrid shot him a look and tried to will her ears to stop burning.  “I’m not-- I just--  It’s not that big a deal!  I just did what needed doing.”

 

Fíli chuckled quietly to himself.  “There you go again,” he murmured. “Just like after the Battle.”

 

“You remember that?”

 

“Of course I do,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper.

 

 _“So,”_ Bain broke in, bless him.  “Food?”

 

“Yes!  Food.”  Fíli seemed to snap out of his reverie now that he had a job to do.  He offered his arm to Sigrid, and she linked hers much more closely than she had with her brother.  She always knew he must be strong, but when she felt the firm muscle through his shirt she couldn’t stop herself from clutching onto his arm a little tighter.  He snuck a look at her and flexed, which made Sigrid blush to be caught out.  When she looked away he laughed to himself.  She deserved it.  For shit’s sake, she was acting like a teenager.  She needed to get it together, and fast.

 

When they finally entered the Dining Hall, she was surprised to see every Dwarf in Erebor was there.  A head table sat at the end of the room, and five other tables seating eight or ten stood parallel.  Sigrid recognized all thirteen of the Dwarves that had stayed with her in Lake Town, but most of the faces were strangers.  “Cousins from the Iron Mountains,” Fíli murmured, moving toward the head table.  “Though Dain returned shortly after the Battle, some stayed behind, or filtered in after, to help rebuild both the halls and, er, our numbers.  I shouldn’t worry about memorizing all of their names.  I certainly won’t be making you jewelry with fifty some-odd leaves on it any time soon.”

 

After the initial shock of the crowd Sigrid did start to see some faces poking out.  It seemed Borin had stayed, and ended up sticking rather close to his former patient Gror, who had some sort of apparatus attached to his leg so he could stand and walk almost as well as if he hadn’t suffered the amputation at all.  Dwarven craftsmanship sure lived up to its reputation.

 

Bard sat to Thorin’s left, then there were two empty seats and TIlda on the end.  The seat on Thorin’s other side was empty, then Kíli, Balin and Dwalin filled the rest of the head table.  Bain sat down beside Bard, and Fíli pulled the remaining chair out for Sigrid.  She sat, smiling gratefully as he pushed her gently closer to the table.  “I hope you enjoy the feast, Sig,” he murmured in her ear, before taking his seat beside Thorin.

 

It would have been hard not to, as course after course of food was placed in front of her.  She tried to warn Tilda not to eat too much of each plate, but everything tasted wonderful.  Sigrid found it hard to follow her own advice; it was impossible to override a lifetime of scraping for each morsel, and to waste an entire bowl of soup seemed criminal.  So she spaced every bite out as much as she could, taking a sip of wine in between each one and chewing slowly.  However this had the unfortunate consequence that she was a little drunk by the time her dessert arrived. Thankfully it was a heavy chocolate thing they served with a hot, bitter beverage.  Tilda turned up her nose at the drink, but Sigrid was grateful to have something to sober her up a bit.

 

A few short minutes later, a hush suddenly came over the assembly.  Sigrid followed their gaze to the corner, and saw that Fíli and Kíli had raised fiddles to their chins, backed up by a handful of other Dwarves on horns and drums.  Kíli nodded a four-count, and they started playing a jaunty tune with a strong beat.  Before long all the tables but the head table had been cleared out of the way, and about half the Dwarves took up dancing or clapping along.  

 

Tilda squealed with delight.  “Can I go, Da, please?” she leaned over the table to shout past her siblings.  

 

He nodded but held up a hand and warned,  “Be good!” before Tilda ran down to join the rest of the crowd.  

 

Sigrid was happy to have a break and just watch for a while.  It was happy here, and safe.  Tilda took her turn with Dwarf after Dwarf, clearly enjoying the attention.  A song or two later, Bain offered his hand to Sigrid.  “Shall we join the fun?  Da and Thorin seem pretty involved in their discussion and I’m… not.”  

 

She took his hand and stood, still a bit unsteady, and let her brother lead her out to an open part of the floor.  The song playing was fast and bouncy, and Bain took her hand and waist.  “This sounds a bit like ‘Sing, Summer Bird,’ yeah?   Let’s see if it fits.”

 

Sigrid nodded and picked up a fistful of skirt with her free hand.  As the song rounded back towards the refrain, they started in to the routine they’d been dancing since they were Tilda’s age.  Their feet crossed each others and they leaned back and forth.  He spun her around and she laughed in delight, then when she returned to him he bent nearly in half to spin under her arm.  She vaguely registered that they were given more and more room, but was having too much fun to pay it any mind.  The song ended with a flourish and a stinger, and Bain spun her out of his arms, still holding onto one hand.  Her hair spun around her face, blocking her vision; she yelped as Bain stopped her momentum and she was yanked back towards him.  Out of breath from exertion and laughter, Sigrid bent over for a moment to collect herself.  

 

When she stood back up, eyes shining in delight, she realized that they had become the center of attention.  About half the group was clapping and more were picking it up every second.  Up on stage, Fíli’s eyes were twinkling at her, and when she looked back to Bain, he was smiling too, if a little awkwardly.

 

Her face burned under the extra attention.  So, smoothing her skirts down, she cleared her throat and called, “Let’s hear it for our amazing musicians!”  As the applause rose louder at her prompting, she slipped through the crowd and leaned against the wall.  That had gotten a bit out of hand.  She certainly hadn’t meant to show off or anything.

 

“That was amazing, Sig!”  Tilda cried, running over to her.  “I haven’t seen you dance like that in ages!”

 

“That’s because we haven’t,” she breathed, holding her hair off her neck.  All the torches, food, and people had made the room rather warm to exert oneself in.  

 

Bain fell heavily against the wall beside her, still laughing a bit under his breath.  “No, we certainly have not.”

 

When she looked up, Fíli was standing there behind Tilda.  “Pardon me, Lady Tilda,” he said formally, bowing and offering his hand.  “Would you honor me with a dance?”  

 

Tilda giggled and looked to Sigrid, who nodded encouragingly and waved her on.  She took his hand and let him lead her onto the floor.  The song playing now was some Dwarfish thing everyone but them knew the words to, and a smile came to her lips.  Fíli was showing Tilda the steps patiently, and Sigrid could tell he was mouthing the words to the song when he wasn’t advising her sister.

 

She watched the party happily from her perch along the wall, occasionally engaged in conversation by some of the Dwarves from Thorin’s party (Ori was particularly verbose after five glasses of wine), but she certainly didn’t feel lonely when she was alone.  There was too much joy here for that.  

 

After a little while, Sigrid felt a tap on her shoulder.  Fíli stood, hand out and a smile on his face.  “Tilda’s a quick study,” he said when she stood and took his arm, “but I think I’d much rather dance this one with you.”  A slow, wistful sounding melody carried over the sound of the crowd, which had largely taken the opportunity to rest and drink up before the next loud and fast one.  When they’d reached the center of the floor, Fíli took her small hand in his large one.  His broad palm was warm against her waist, and he started leading her back and forth in a gentle sway.  She saw her Da dancing with Tilda standing on his feet.  

 

The deep voices of the assembled Dwarves rose above the horns and Kíli’s fiddle, and Sigrid ducked her head to murmur in his ear, “What do the words mean?”

 

“The song’s about home,” he answered, nostalgic look on his face.  “Home, and missing home.  It was written after the dragon sent our people running from Erebor, when returning here was barely a dream.  I grew up hearing it every night before bed, actually.”  

 

His breath was warm and smelled faintly of wine.  Her heart twisted at his words.  “It’s beautiful,” she replied, squeezing his hand.

 

The song ended and everyone was quiet for a moment, letting the last chord hang in the air as long as possible.  Several of the Dwarves were teary-eyed, and even Fíli sniffed a little bit.  

 

“Let’s, uh, let’s get some air, hm?”

 

As they crossed the Great Hall their footsteps rang loudly in the emptiness, and Sigrid was acutely aware of how alone they were. “Where are we going?”  

 

“I thought I would show you my favorite spot on the Mountain.  Is that--  I wouldn’t want to do anything that would possibly be inappropriate.  Kíli knows, um, what I--  We can go back to the dining room if you would be more comfortable.”  Fíli looked downright pained, and Sigrid had never heard him stutter like that before.

 

“Fíli, I’m a woman grown, and we’ve been alone together before.  I trust you.”

 

He visibly relaxed, tension easing from his broad shoulders.  “Then we have a wee bit of climbing to do, if you don’t mind.  But it’s worth it, I promise.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she answered and slipped her hand into his.  “Let’s go.”

 

Sure enough, Sigrid lost count of the stairs they climbed about a quarter of the way up.  Eventually, they arrived at a dead end, the stairwell ending in a landing hardly five feet across with nothing but a rough patch of wall to look at.  “Wow, this is beautiful...” she joked, elbowing him in the shoulder as she caught her breath.  

 

“Hush, you,” he muttered, running his hands along the wall until he found a hidden button.  There was a grinding sound, and soft light filtered into a rectangular crack that appeared.  Fíli gripped the edge of rock with his fingertips and inched it back until he could get a good hold on what turned out to be a door.  Sigrid watched silently as he pulled the door completely open, revealing a large open ledge.  He took her hand again and pulled her outside.  

 

The sky was mostly clear, stars shining brightly with a few wisps of cloud here and there.  The moon was huge, half full, lighting a path leading down the side of the mountain, and looking further beyond, Sigrid could see the plain stretching all the way to the horizon.   _“Oh…”_

 

“Because they didn’t want to alert the dragon, this was how Thorin and the rest came into the mountain after they left us in Lake Town,” Fíli explained.  “From the outside the door is impossible to find except on such and such night under such and such moon, I don’t know.  But from the inside you just need to find the latch.”

 

Sigrid shivered in the cool night air but didn’t care.  “It’s so beautiful.  You can see forever!”

 

Fíli showed her over to a bench that had been carved into the side of the mountain and sat down.  “I come up here a lot, when I only have a few hours to get away.”

 

She sat down beside him, keeping her arm linked with his as much for closeness as for warmth.  Looking up, she searched the sky for a moment, found what she wanted, and pointed up.  “You can see the Hunter, from here.  Well, that’s what most of the Men call it.  We always called it Girion, you know, from the old tales, but Da never liked that much of course.”

 

Fíli smiled, “Dwarves call it The Archer.  Not that many of us use a bow, so I suppose no one wanted imply that you needed one to hunt.”

 

“No, I suppose not,” she murmured, and leaned her head on Fíli’s shoulder.  She could feel him shift, and she made to sit back up but he put his arm around her.  The warm heavy weight was nice, and she curled into him happily. As they sat in silence, Sigrid started to play with the decorations on his jerkin, running a finger along the design of the trim, tugging gently at the buttons.

 

He kept opening his mouth, taking breaths as if to start talking, but she waited it out until he finally said, “I’m really glad you came here.  I wanted to show you my home, to…  Well you know we went through so much to get here, and I wanted you to know that I realize we dragged you into the mess with us.  Your father, your whole family really, are the reason we’re here, and I won’t forget it, ever.”

 

“It’s really beautiful.  I mean, the whole idea of living in a mountain, it’s completely unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.  But it’s also comfortable and secure and warm in a way I didn’t expect.”

 

“I must confess, that comforts me significantly,” he admitted with a laugh.  “I’d hoped you would like it here.”  Fíli fell silent, but there was still tension in his shoulders.

 

“What is it, Fi?”  Sigrid figured she probably knew; after all, he’d taken her up to his _favorite place_ on the Mountain, to show her the _freaking stars,_ had told his _brother_ beforehand, and had been a nervous mess ever since they got out of the great hall.  

 

He pulled his arm back from around her and turned to face her fully.  “I want to ask if…  Sigrid, I would like to court you.  Openly, formally, however you want to call it.  I think you’re absolutely remarkable, you’re so kind and brave, you’re…” He paused and took her hand.  “I know it’s Men’s custom to ask the father first but that’s not how we do it and it would feel completely inappropriate for me to go over your head like that so I wanted to ask you tonight, because that would give me time later to talk to Bard.”

 

Sigrid smiled.  There it was.  She had been right after all.  “Fíli, I would like that very much,” she said hurriedly, trying to stop the poor dear’s rambling in his anxiety.

 

“I know you’d be signing up for a lot,” Fíli added, wincing a bit.  “Thorin has made it absolutely clear that even though everything’s over and we have the Mountain for good, he will not be taking a wife, which means no other heir.  I’m it.  And I’ve always been prepared for it but I’m sure it will be a whole lot easier if you’re with me.  If you’ll have me.  I know you’ve been rather thrown into--”

 

She pushed him away, laughing. “Stop trying to talk me out of it!”

 

He chuckled as he reeled back from the assault.  “Ooh, now I’m not so sure.  I’d no idea you were so violent.  Not very seemly for a queen.”

 

“Really? For a queen of Dwarves?”  Sigrid arched an eyebrow.  “I don’t believe you.  And regardless, you already asked.  No take-backs.  You’re stuck with me now.”

 

Fíli scooted closer to her again and took her hand.  He leaned in, and Sigrid was so sure that this, this was it.  She closed her eyes and leaned in.

 

He rested his forehead against hers, and all but whispered, “I have beads for you.”

 

“What?”  Sigrid opened her eyes and found his shining.  “What are you talking about?”

 

“In our custom, when two Dwarves agree they will court, they weave a special braid into their hair.”  As he explained, his conversation with Tilda echoed in her ear.  How had she forgotten that?  “And there are beads, too,”  Fíli continued quietly.  “Either of some sentimental value to the other family, or newly made to show a Dwarf’s skills or wealth.  I hadn’t given it any thought myself, actually, until last night.”  

 

Sigrid thought for a moment.  What had happened last night?  She and her family had arrived, and eaten, and… the pillow thing?  What did that have to do with beads?

 

“I was talking to Kíli,” he explained, “after you found our little prank.  And he referred to you as his future sister-by-marriage, and I don’t know, I suppose that’s when it really started to feel real, that I could really ask you to…That you might say,” Fíli interrupted himself with a self-deprecating laugh.  “He basically told me to get my act together, and so this morning while you and your siblings were exploring the Mountain, I was down in the forge working on beads for your hair.  I… wanted them to be special.”

 

“Fíli…” she breathed, and it was so, so easy to just slide her hand up to his cheek, to tilt her chin up and press her lips to his.  His mustache and beard were a pleasant roughness around her mouth, his beads tapped gently against her jaw.  She pulled a hair’s breadth away and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, grinning as she bumped his nose gently with hers.  “It would be an honor to wear your braid.”

 

He huffed a laugh and took her face between his hands.  “Oh, my pretty Sigrid.”  Then his lips were on hers again, kissing hungrily.  She parted her lips and darted her tongue out.  He tasted like wine and chocolate, and he hummed in delight as he slid his hand down along her arm to her waist.  She pressed into him, letting his arms wrap around her completely.  This was at once everything and nothing like how she thought it would be.

 

When she’d kissed other boys, they kissed like boys: fumbling and mechanical, like they’d read how once in some book.  But Fíli kissed like he ached for her, like he wanted nothing more than to taste her lips and her tongue forever.  She broke away after a bit and leaned back to get a look at him.  He smiled at her, starry-eyed, and she ducked her head, bashful all of a sudden.

 

“I, um,” she darted her tongue out, tasting the end of their kiss on her lips.  “I don’t have anything for you, though.  Not with me, anyway.” Sigrid paused, unwilling to say aloud that she had really feared he wouldn’t ask her. “Anyway,” she repeated, more solidly.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Fíli just shrugged.  “There’s time yet, if you really want to.  I don’t mind either way; I know it’s not your custom.  Thorin and Balin will want to speak to Bard about the terms of our courtship and, er, eventual union.  I thought that after I’d spoken with you, we could tell them and go from there?”  

 

“Yes, I like that idea,” she answered as she snuggled even closer to him.  

 

Fíli pulled the small bead out of his pocket.  “I, um.  I was really hoping you’d say yes,” he laughed quietly.  “I think you’re so amazing, Sigrid.  You… I’m so honored that you did say yes.”

 

“Fíli,” Sigrid protested, pink tinging her cheeks.  

 

“So the tradition goes that the first one goes on your braid when the courtship is announced, and the second goes on once you’re wed.”  He opened his hand, showing her the slim, yellow-gold cylinder etched with a vine, tiny colored stones creating two flowers in mosaic.  “This one is for now, and I have another ready for the wedding day.”

 

“Oh, Fi,” she breathed, holding it up to the light and turning it this way and that.  “This is gorgeous.”  It was the finest thing she had ever seen.  Even the Master’s old jewelry seemed gaudy and cheap compared to the little bead in her hand.

 

“I’m glad you like it.  Ki asked if I wanted to use our mother’s, but they’re, well, they’re a lot like the beads I wear now and your hair is so fine--”  

 

Sigrid shushed him, handing the bead back and pulling her hair out of his comb.  “It’s beautiful and I love it and I want to wear it.  Will you braid my hair, Prince Fíli?”

 

He gulped.  “Aye,” he whispered hoarsely, rising to stand at her side.   “You know, I’m not about to tell Bard this, but the courting braid is usually done yourself, or with family.  Mothers, sisters, uncles, whoever.”  He took the decorative comb out of her hand, straightening out one side of her hair.  “It's rather unusual to touch a partner’s hair before the wedding.”  He then selected a small piece which fell above her ear and pulled it into three thin strands.  “Some might say scandalous, even.”

 

Sigrid just laughed.  “Well there’s enough unusual about this pairing anyway, I expect.  Plus I wouldn’t want to accidentally start a war because I messed up the pattern.  I wouldn’t even know where to start!”

 

Fíli chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.  “Then I’ll explain.  First a small plait that will be one of the strands for the large braid.  This signifies you’re marrying the first in line, the direct heir.  Think of it like the ones I wear behind my ears.”  His fingers flew as he pulled it into three pieces and plaited it quickly. He rolled the end of her hair together to keep the small plait in place as he picked up hair around it.  “Four strands for the actual braid,” he added, weaving one under and around to the middle, then the next, then the next, “in a box or rope shape, not flat, to show the unyielding strength of the Line of Durin.”  

 

The soft silk of her hair made gentle whispers against each other has his fingers pulled and twisted them into shape.  Sigrid couldn’t see what he was doing at all but she hardly cared.  Fíli hadn’t had to tell her how intimate this was; the air was charged with it, she could practically taste it.  He was gentle, tender, almost reverent with her hair.  She only wished she could do something in return.

 

“You must tell me if I pull too hard,” Fíli murmured.  “I just want to be sure it holds up for you for a while.  Rumor has it you won’t be able to put it back in correctly.”

 

Sigrid rolled her eyes.  “I know, I know.  I’m rubbish at braids.  ‘Tis no secret.”

 

Fíli smiled and slid the bead up one of the strands in the middle.  “The bead goes halfway up the braid, more or less, above the ear.  Later your wedding bead will go in as well, and you can also have a personal one, or birth family, that sort of thing, down at the bottom.”  He worked slowly, methodically to finish the braid.  “Above the ear for the eldest, then lower and lower for younger sons.”

 

“Or daughters,” she added teasingly.

 

“Or daughters,” he agreed.  After a moment he whispered, _“Khuzd tada tabjabi d'ahlut yusth mud ashmur diya ins ubnanhu…_ They say a dwarf that chooses to take a wife must guard her as his greatest treasure.”  He reached the end of her hair and twisted the ends into knots to keep the braid in place.  “I promise you I will,” he added solemnly as he let the braid fall out of his hands.

 

She reached up to skim her fingers over his handiwork, then grinned and pulled him down by the collar, surging forward to lock her lips with his.  Her hands came up to hold his face, thumbs running over the edge where his beard began.  It was so much easier to do this than bear the weight of all that tenderness.  The press of his lips against hers was so sweet, the push of his tongue into her mouth gentle yet possessive.  He pulled her close, and a shiver ran through her as she folded her cold arms in between the warmth of their bodies.

 

Fíli broke away, concerned.  “Sig, are you cold?”  When she nodded, he huffed and pushed her gently away.  “Then let’s go back inside!  Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

She stood and rubbed her arms.  “Because.  I like kissing you.”  

 

Fíli led her back inside and pushed the door shut behind them.  “Well, pretty Sigrid,” he replied, pulling her back up against his chest.  “You don’t have to freeze.  You can kiss me whenever you like.”  He reached up and stroked his thumb over the apple of her cheek.  

 

She bent down to kiss him again, running her fingers through his hair.  He licked and nipped at her lips, and she hummed happily.  The slide of his tongue against hers was more intoxicating than any Dwarfish wine; her knees weakened, and she sunk back against the stone wall for support.  He followed, lining his whole body up against her, holding her just where he wanted.  The wall was roughly hewn, and Sigrid could feel every jut and ridge through the back of her dress.  

 

Sigrid’s head was spinning, she was so caught up in him.  Every place their bodies touched felt as though they were on fire.  Her hands couldn’t decide what to do as they slid over his arms, down his chest, up his back.  Her heart was racing, she had to break away to catch her breath.

 

Fíli barely let her.  His hands held her hips firmly against the wall as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, under her ear, down her neck.  Fíli slid one of his legs between hers, his right hand skating up her side.  When he hit her pulse point, she gasped and threw her head back, and it cracked against the wall.

 

“Ow!  Fuck!” Sigrid pressed her hand against the spot that hit the wall, then bowed her head to his, giggling.  “Damn it.”

 

“Mahal!  Sigrid, are you all right?”  His hands gingerly picked through her hair, checking for blood.  “Shit, Sig, I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, just a bump,” she laughed.  “It’s for the best anyway, I think.”  She pulled the comb out of her hair to check it, and buy herself some time to calm down.  It was definitely for the best; she probably would have let him do anything he wanted to her right there against that wall.  Satisfied there was no damage to the jewelry, she fixed her hair and added, “I think we’ve been away from the dining hall long enough.  Someone’s bound to have noticed.”

 

As they headed down the steps to the dining hall, Sigrid couldn’t keep the grin off her face.  She was being courted.  Officially.  By a prince.  Who was handsome and cared for her and kissed like a god. She'd be able to make good on that threat to Stromsen after all.

  
  



	8. Hold Me Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another explicit scene, this time at the end of this chapter. It's pretty obvious to see it coming, and you won't miss anything if you decide to stop reading before that scene gets going. It begins, "It didn't work." Thanks much for reading!

 

Fíli played nervously with the other bead in his pocket as he and Sigrid descended the many flights of stairs back down to the dining hall.  Sure, Kíli had been right about the Moon Door, and almost everything else, actually, but it wasn’t over yet.  They had to tell Thorin and Bard.  

 

“Maybe we should talk to them tomorrow?”  He ventured, hoping she’d agree.  It was getting late and he’d really rather not stay up to hear Thorin bluster about for two more hours.  

 

“Hm?  Oh, Da and Thorin?  Yes, I think that might be a good idea,” she paused, then added, “providing, of course, I don’t get an earful already tonight.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well, it’s not exactly proper for a woman to leave a party with a man unescorted,” Sigrid explained.  “Even if we do come back.”

 

“Ah, my Lady Sigrid, how quickly you forget.  I’m not a Man!”  Fíli teased.  

 

They rounded a corner and she batted at him again.  “Don’t be daft, you know what I mean.”

 

“In all seriousness,” he added, anxiety mounting.  “Should I not have taken you away?  I just wanted to have that conversation without eager ears listening in, I never even thought about your customs.  Will this cause problems for you?  For us?”

 

Sigrid shrugged.  “It’ll be fine.  And even if it isn’t, I’m just as much to blame as you. Da is unflinchingly fair when it comes to that.”  She laughed, and Fíli figured there had to be a story there.  “Anyway, we’re the only non-Dwarves around.  My own family is hardly going to question my virtue, or whatever.  We can go in separately if you think it will help.”

 

The muffled sounds of conversation and music filtered down the hallway, and as they approached they found about half the assembly had left the party.  “Aw shit,” Sigrid muttered.  “No chance blending in with the crowd after all.  I guess we’ll just have to own it, Son of Durin.  Might as well go back in together.”

 

Fíli grimaced.  The last thing he needed was to give Bard any reason to distrust him, but then he’d gone and done a stupid thing like, oh, completely disregarding Men’s courting customs.  He’d known, actually, that Men tended to be much more uptight about that sort of thing, but it hadn’t even registered when he’d made his plan.  They approached the head table, Sigrid just a step in front of him, and he knew they’d been made.  Kíli was waggling his eyebrows at him, Thorin just stared with vague disdain, and Ori was giving the most obnoxious wink from down on the floor.  

 

Sigrid held her chin high as she approached her side of the table.  Tilda had sat beside Bard and was falling asleep on his arm, but when he saw Sigrid, Bard gently pushed her off and rose to his feet.

 

Bard crossed behind the Dwarves still seated at the head table, and stood in front of them, arms crossed over his chest.  “Just where did you get off to?”  He arched an eyebrow, looking between Sigrid and Fíli.

 

“Oh come on, Da, let it go,” she protested.  She tried to wave Fíli off but he remained rooted in place.  There was no way he was letting her take any sort of reprimand alone.

 

“Listen, I know you and the Dwarf are sweet on each other,” Bard scolded, “but just because we’re in Erebor doesn’t mean you get to completely abandon the rules and expectations I’ve set.  You have to set an example for your sister, and you know this is hardly a good one.  Not to mention how we all are being held to an even higher standard ever since--  Anyway, we all have a lot more responsibility than we used to, and rumors about the Lady of Dale running off with a Dwarf is about the last thing I need.”

 

“Oh Valar, Da, nothing happened.  We didn’t _run off._  Fíli and I left the party for a little while because he asked to court me.  I’m wearing his braid now, see?  He just didn’t want to do it in front of everyone, because that’s not how Dwarves do it.  Let the rumors come, Da.  They’re true.”

 

Bard turned and leveled a searching look at Fíli, who stood as tall as he could manage as he added, “It’s true, Lord Bard.  Courting is usually decided between the two Dwarves in question, even with royal lines.  It just felt… wrong, going above Sigrid’s head like that to ask you first.  I had hoped you would understand.”

 

The Man regarded Fíli carefully for a moment, then turned back to Sigrid.  “You aren’t wed yet.  I don’t want you disappearing every time you get a chance, you hear?  We will talk about the rest of what this means _later._  Go help your sister to bed.”

 

“Yes, Da,” Sigrid muttered.  She squeezed Fíli’s hand one last time and went back the way they’d come in, turning this time toward the living quarters.

 

Bard sighed and rubbed his temples with one hand.  “Prince Fíli, you’d better tell Thorin straight away.  I don’t need him to have any reason to dislike me any more than he already does.”

 

Well the Man was right about one thing.  If he knew, that meant Thorin had to know immediately.  As he approached his Uncle he was acutely aware of his brother leaning in to eavesdrop.  “Uncle, may I have a word?”

 

“What is it?” The king asked, turning in his seat to face Fíli.

 

“I’ve spoken with Lady Sigrid.  She’s, um, accepted my offer to court her,” Fíli answered.  He could hear Kíli flailing about behind him, and Tauriel trying to shush him.  “I thought you would want to know right away.”

 

“Is that where you were, brother?” Kíli interjected, cheeky grin plastered across his face.  “Spirited away to put a pretty little braid in the girl’s hair?”

 

Fíli shoved an open palm into his brother’s face and pushed him away. “Shut up.”

 

“Hmph.  Does Bard know, then?” Thorin asked, sparing a look towards Balin.  

 

“Aye… He knows…” Fíli hedged, but Thorin fixed him with a look and he buckled immediately.  “He didn’t seem too pleased when we returned to the dining hall.  I’m sure that ultimately he’ll allow Sigrid to court whomever she chooses, but I expect he’ll want significant input on the marriage contract as well.”

 

Thorin thought for a moment, then rose from his chair.  “Well it looks like Balin and I have some work to do on the morrow.  We need to draft the official proposal and settle the matter before Bard and his brood take their leave.  There’s quite a lot for our two nations to… discuss.”  When Balin nodded, Thorin took a step away from the table, then clapped a hand over Fíli’s shoulder.  “Do you have your mother’s beads, then?”

 

“No, I made them new.”  The weight of the remaining piece sat heavy in his pocket.

 

Thorin nodded, and a rare smile crossed his lips.  “Good lad.  I’ll see you in the morning.”  

 

~*~

 

As Thorin and Balin and probably a handful of other Dwarves worked on the Kingdom of Erebor’s official Proposal of Marriage to Sigrid of Dale, Fíli sat in the antechamber to his rooms, fidgeting.  He understood vaguely the kinds of terms that would be included in the marriage contract, but they weren’t exactly so common that he knew what he should expect.

 

He sighed.  Mostly the document would have to do with the issue of, well, _issue._ He didn’t even know if it were possible; he’d never heard of anyone else giving it a try, anyway.  But if they could, he wanted to make sure that their offspring were respected as fully Dwarf, that they would succeed him.  Beyond that, he didn’t want to think about it much.  When he did, all sorts of nightmare scenarios flashed in front of his eyes, from complications in pregnancy to physical defect to his children never reaching adulthood, too infirm.  No, he didn’t want to think about that at all.  So he rose from his chair, put on his jerkin and two daggers, grabbed both his swords, and left the room.  Kíli would spar with him, probably.  He needed to blow off some steam.  

 

Fíli found his brother already in the armory, mostly just fooling around with Tauriel in a practice ring.  “Brother!” Kíli called as he dodged a half-hearted swing.  “Is that wretched document signed yet?”

 

“No, not yet,” he answered, leaning up against the post holding the ropes around the ring.  “And they’ve been at it all morning.”

  
“And where’s your lady love?” Tauriel asked, bending backwards almost in half and lashing out with her off hand.  She tagged Kíli’s shoulder and announced, “Point!”

 

Fíli shrugged.  “With her sister, perhaps?  I’ve been… hiding out.  Driving myself crazy.  I need a distraction.”  

 

“Everyone always says I’m distracting,” Kíli said proudly.  “Come on in!”

 

Fíli pulled a leather thong out of one of his pockets to tie his hair back, then unsheathed his swords and ducked under the rope.  Kíli and Tauriel both stood at the other end of the ring.  Kíli had his longsword out, and Tauriel both daggers.  They were circling around him in opposite directions, and Fíli felt a jolt of adrenaline.  This would be a just what he needed.

 

He swirled his swords around to stretch his wrists and forearms, then feinted toward Kíli and charged at Tauriel.  She had such a longer reach that she easily deflected the attack from his strong arm.  She twisted around and blocked his other sword, pushing him back several steps.  Kíli was waiting for him; he lunged forward and Fíli pivoted to the side to avoid him.  

 

Tauriel was already back, arms whirling wide arcs, long daggers flashing in the lamp light. As Fíli stepped aside to avoid her, Kíli’s foot tripped him up.  Fíli had no choice but to roll into the fall and back onto his feet.  The middle of his back ached with stiffness; even after months he was not in top shape and it grated his nerves.  His opponents were on the other side of the ring again, and Fíli’s eyes darted between the two of them.  He was waiting this time, and it didn’t take long for Tauriel to make the first move.  She jabbed low and he met her dagger with his off-hand sword, but was too slow to raise the other.  Kíli nabbed him on the shoulder.  “Point!” he called, strutting away.

 

“Aargh!” Fíli spat, shaking out the tension in his shoulders and legs.  “Again!”  This exercise was more needed than he’d known.

 

So again Kíli charged, sword raised high.  Fíli caught his swing with both swords and pushed his brother back, and instantly swung both arms out to try to catch Tauriel.  She blocked his blade and swiped at Fíli’s shoulder.  He dropped to the ground, rolled, and swung out, catching Tauriel’s leg with the flat of his blade.  “Point.”

 

They continued trading hits back and forth for some time, and Fíli could feel himself tiring.  After he’d earned a point poking Kíli in the stomach, they stalked each other for a moment before Kíli straightened up and lowered his sword.  “Lady Sigrid!”

 

“Not gonna work, Ki,” Fíli warned, and sliced backhanded at his brother’s midsection.

 

Kíli barely had time to block.  “Mahal, Fíli!  Is this the kind of sportsmanship you show in front of your beloved?  Very well.”  He advanced quickly, grappling with Fíli, swords clashing.  Having trained together their entire lives they were well matched in strength, and neither brother gave any ground as they pushed and pulled against each other.

 

“Fíli, he’s not joking!”

 

At Sigrid’s voice, Fíli faltered.  His foot slid and twisted a bit behind him, and he fell to the mat, taking Kíli with him.  Tauriel stood above them, laughing to herself, daggers sheathed.  

 

“Ugh, get off me!”  He pushed at his brother, trying to get him to roll over, but Kíli was laughing too hard to move much on his own.  Finally Fíli was able to sit up and look outside the ring to see Sigrid standing there, trying valiantly to hide her laughter.  “Call Thorin, I’ve a new term to add to our contract,” he announced.  “No sneaking up on me when sparring.  You’ll be the death of me, lass.”  

 

“I’m sorry,” she answered, and she really sounded contrite.  “I really didn’t mean to startle you.”  She approached the ring and rested her hands on the rope.  “Are you hurt?”

 

“Eh,” he shrugged, checking himself over as he rose to his feet.  “Tauriel got one good shot in.”  He showed her his upper arm, where the sleeve was torn and slightly darkened with blood.  “It’ll mend.  So what brings you down here?”  He raised an arm to his forehead to remove some of the sweat, and grabbed his swords to put them back in their scabbards.

 

“Just wandering.  Trying to keep busy while we wait to see what fate our King Under the Mountain hath wrought for us.”  She smiled wryly and followed him to the side of the room where towels and water lay waiting.  “It seems you’ve been doing the same?”

 

“Aye, he came down here looking for a fight and I daresay he found one,” Kíli interrupted, grabbing the cup out of Fíli’s hands and draining it, much to his dismay.

 

“Hey now, don’t be rude.”

 

Sigrid rolled her eyes.  “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Prince Kíli.  I was hoping to speak with you for a moment?”

 

Fíli eyed the both of them skeptically.  What would she possibly need from his brother?  But Kíli nodded, sobering immediately, and led her over to the rows of bows and quivers where it was difficult to overhear.  Fíli just sighed and picked up his shorter sword to clean.

 

“Do not worry, Fíli,” Tauriel said kindly.  “He really can be serious when he needs to be.”

 

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, flipping the sword over on his lap.  “I just--” he paused as he heard Kíli and Sigrid’s laughter rise above the racks of weapons.  He shoved his sword into his sheath with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary, and started on the other one.  “I don’t know what she needs but I do know she wouldn’t have taken him aside if it weren’t important.”

 

“Everything will be fine,” she reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.  

 

The knowing look she gave him did make Fíli feel a bit better as the two of them returned.  “No, right you are.  I absolutely agree,” Kíli was saying as Sigrid nodded, smiling.  “I’ll take care of it.  You can count on me.”

 

Fíli sheathed his second sword and threw the two scabbards over his shoulder.  “Well,” he began pointedly.  “I’m filthy, so if you’ll excuse me I must go bathe.  Hopefully by the time I’m done my dear Uncle will emerge from conference.”

 

“You hardly have to tell us how you reek,” Kíli agreed.  “You are a mess.  And I have work to do.  So off with you!”

 

As Fíli started on his way out of the armory, Sigrid took a step to block his path.  She leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, and whispered, “I quite like this,” as she yanked on his ponytail.  Louder, she added, “I’ll see you soon.”

 

He was really rather grateful she let him go so quickly, because that tug on his hair had shot straight to his groin.  It was becoming difficult to squash down the effect she had on him; hopefully the courting period would be short.  As soon as Fíli had made his intentions known to her, she had become much more physically affectionate with him.  And in public!  Maybe it was a Human thing?  He tried desperately to put it out of his mind as he made the trek back up to his quarters.  

 

It didn’t work.  As soon as he got to his room he slammed the door behind him, threw down his weapons, and ripped out the laces of his trousers before he even got his boots off.  Oh, that felt so much better.  He pressed his palm over the length of his dick and felt a new surge of arousal.  Fuck, there was no way he was going to behave with any sense of decorum for the rest of the day unless he took care of this now.  So he kicked off his boots, went to his bedroom, and pulled his trousers all the way off.  His cock bobbed up gently, finally completely free and hard as a rock.  Fíli groaned as he stroked down the length of it.  The image of Sigrid doing that for him instead came unbidden, and he swallowed another sound of pleasure, picturing her slender fingers working up and down his length.

 

He lay back down on the bed and allowed himself to indulge the fantasy.  The feeling of her lips on his, the soft swell of her hips under his hands, the quiet gasps she made as he found that special spot on her neck, the taste of her skin.  Precome leaked from the head of his cock and he spread it around, but it wasn’t enough.  He spit into his hand and ran his palm up and down, twisting at the head just how he liked.  His free hand drifted down his chest, still covered with his tunic, and pinched lightly at his nipple.

 

Fíli wondered if Sigrid would know just how to touch him, if she would take him in her hand confidently with strong, quick strokes, or if she would be shy, fingers ghosting over his skin, driving him crazy.  He wanted to slide his hand up her leg under her skirts, to slip his fingers into her soft folds, to taste her.

 

Nearly lost, he jacked himself in short, hard strokes, panting as pressure built a little more with each twist of his hand.  Fíli pictured Sigrid on top of him, then, taking him into her slowly, then all at once, grinding down on him, twisting her fingers in his hair and pulling hard.  The tight, hot coil in his abdomen burned.  He was so close, he just needed… He reached down with his other hand and cupped his balls, rolling his thumb over them as his other hand pumped an increasingly erratic rhythm over his cock.  He gripped himself just a little tighter, imagining Sigrid’s cries of pleasure as she came on top of him, and that was it.  His vision blacked out as hot, white ropes of cum shot over his hand and onto his stomach.  A loud groan escaped him, bliss rolling out from his dick over his entire body.

 

Completely spent, Fíli lay there on the bed for a moment to catch his breath.  He was a fucking mess, in every sense of the word.  At least now he hoped he’d be able to focus for the rest of the afternoon.  Probably.  He stripped off his tunic and threw it in the general direction of his laundry pile, then went to his bathroom and slid into the warm water that awaited him.  He grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed a bit aimlessly under his arms, over his torso, then set the soap down to pull out his braids.

 

Sigrid had been so apologetic that she didn’t have a bead to give him, but he honestly didn’t care.  He would get it eventually.  It’s not as if he would really need any hair style’s help to advertise their engagement anyway; Erebor was quite a small world.  News traveled faster than it could be created, it seemed.  Not to mention, Balin and the rest would surely turn the farewell feast this evening into an engagement party anyway.  Fíli dipped under the water and scrubbed at his scalp, relishing the feeling of his hair floating in the warm water.  

 

When he surfaced, he took a small amount of fragrant oil and rubbed it through the strands, combing them out neatly.  This was going to be a good day, he could just feel it.  Things were finally underway for him to move on from his life as a wandering warrior, to leave that all behind for the security of a real home and a family of his own.  

 

Fíli stepped out of the tub and toweled himself off quickly, then slipped into a tunic and trousers and sat down in front of the mirror to fix his hair again.  As his fingers wove the braids back into place, his reflection gave him pause.  He actually looked happy, truly happy, like for once he wasn’t just waiting for the other boot to drop.  It was a good look on him, if he did say so himself.

 

As he left his rooms to go grab some food, Kíli rushed past.  “Oh good,” he huffed, “You’re dressed.  Thorin and Balin are done with the contract.  You’re wanted down in the large conference room in half an hour.  I’ve got to… go.  Now.  Quickly.  See you there!”  

 

Fíli watched, speechless, as his brother ran up to his room.  Well at least now he knew he had time to eat before the contract negotiations.  Just one little meeting.  Then, the rest of their lives.

 

 


	9. So I Don't Fall Apart

“Is this a joke?”  Sigrid released the scroll so it snapped back into a tight roll on the table.  She batted at it, sending it skittering across the table to rest between Thorin and Balin who sat silently on the other side of the table.  “I’m not signing this.”

 

“Sigrid,” Bard murmured, though he too looked furious.

 

“There’s no way I’m signing this contract.”  She looked down at it, eyes shining, and folded her arms across her chest.  “The proposal is absolutely insulting.”  She raised her eyes to Fíli as he walked in.  “How could you do this to me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.  He looked confused and opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance.

 

“Lady Sigrid, if you’ll read the terms again I think you’ll find they’re perfectly fair,” Thorin answered evenly.  

 

“Fair?” she echoed.  “Fair?  After everything our two families have gone through, _together,_ you’re going to try to tell me that this is _fair?”_  

 

Thorin folded his hands in front of him on the table and leaned forward slightly.  “This proposal is not just about you, lass, it’s about our kingdoms.”  

 

Fíli looked supremely uncomfortable as he sat down between his uncle and picked up a second copy of the contract.  Sigrid couldn’t bring herself to care about his comfort.  “Aye, our kingdoms,” she sneered.  And what did your kingdom offer mine?  My weight in gold as brideprice in exchange for exclusive trade rights for the duration of our marriage?  A Dwarf of twenty-two may be a child, but I’m no Dwarf.  I’m a woman grown and I know exactly what you’re doing, Thorin Oakenshield.”  

 

Fíli’s head snapped up and Balin looked uneasily to Thorin, who bristled.  “What are you trying to accuse me of?”

 

“You’re stiffing us!” Sigrid exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the table.  “And the day before we leave, too.  What could I possibly weigh?  A hundred twenty pounds?  One-thirty?  How far could one hundred and thirty pounds of gold possibly go, to feed an entire kingdom?  And your promise to buy our wares.  How generous,” she scoffed.  “It’s not guaranteed business for us, it’s a guaranteed price for you, for what, seventy years?  A few more if I’m lucky?”  

 

She looked to Fíli who was now steadfastly avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes, reading quickly through the contract.  “You Dwarves sit on your pile of gold and don’t want to part with a single piece of it.  You’re counting on me not to see the long game but I do.  It’s all I’ve ever done.  It’s how I’ve survived this long in the first place.”  

 

Sigrid paused to look at her Da, who was leaning back in his chair, hands folded neatly in his lap.  He twitched his fingers in her direction, a thin smile stretched across his features, “Go on, Sig.  Don’t let me stop you.”

 

“The long game is, you need us more than we need you.  Sure we’re not much now.  Our harvest this year won’t be enough to feed all of us and you know it.  The trees we’ve planted won’t bear fruit for another five years or more, and we’ll have to save much of our stores for next year’s seed.  We’ll be borrowing quite a bit from King Thranduil and Mirkwood, it’s true.  However in ten years we’ll be your only source for fruits, vegetables, and fish.  Sure you could send away for them, but you’ll be paying a premium to get your produce to the Mountain before it rots, and half of it will be bruised beyond recognition anyway.  You can’t farm in these caves.  You’ll need us to farm, you’ll pay us to.”

 

She pushed her chair away from the table hard and stood to lean forward over the table towards Thorin and Balin.  “The people of Lake Town have lived their entire lives without anyone giving us the time of day.  But you’ll need to import the majority of your food, unless you’re keen on living off rats and mushrooms the rest of your life.  That’s why I’m struggling to understand why you even spent the energy to write up that travesty of a document.”  Sigrid took a breath, “You must truly think that little of us.”

 

She straightened up, spared a glance back to Fíli, and felt something twist violently inside her.  “How little you must think of me,” she murmured, half to herself and half to him.  How long had Fíli been playing this game with her?  He was supposed to be different from Gavin Stromsen, Eolan, and the rest.  Yet how long had he been encouraging her affections in order to steal her kingdom’s future from her?   _How dare he._  Well he wouldn’t get away with it, that was for damned sure.  She could still make a good deal for Dale.  The Orcs still threatened, and winter was coming.  People would die if she didn’t figure something out.  Balin was muttering something to Thorin, and her da was listening intently.

 

“You know something?”  Sigrid added in a stronger voice, interrupting the hushed conversation.  “I’m clever.  I’m too fucking clever for this shit.  I know the worth of my people, I know the worth of my kingdom, and I know _my_ worth!”  Her voice rose with her temper until she shouted,  “And my left fucking foot is worth more than that piece of shit you call a contract!  So you’ll take it back, rip it to shreds, and have a new one _and an apology_ to me before dinner, or the whole thing’s off.”  

 

She turned to the youngest Dwarf.  “You aren’t the only show in town, Fíli, I have other options.  So if you know what’s good for you, you lot will fix this.   _Now.”_

 

Sigrid spun around, shoved her chair out of her way, and grabbed a fist full of skirts as she strode to the door.  She blasted it open and headed back to her rooms as fast as she could.  She vaguely registered her father quietly but firmly agreeing with her in the conference room, and a somewhat alarmed Kíli calling after her outside the door as she blew by him.  It was all drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears as she fled.  All right, so she didn’t play that as coolly as she maybe should have, but last night had been so wonderful that the contents of the document hurt worse than a kick to the gut.  This was supposed to have been the easy part.  Just a little piece of paper, then the rest of their lives spent together.  She should have known better.  Nothing’s ever that simple and wonderful, not for her.

 

Her nose and eyes started to prickle almost painfully but she bit her cheek; she absolutely would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.  The heels of her shoes clacked steadily against the stone floor and she focused on the harsh sound as she turned down the hallway towards the living quarters.  She just had to get behind that door--

 

“Sigrid, wait!” she heard Fíli call, and she stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the sob that ripped out of her at the sound of his voice.  “Sigrid!”  She bit down even harder on the inside of her cheek, breath coming heavy through her nose.  She was so close to her rooms, she just needed to get away from everything and figure out what to do.

 

“Leave me alone,” she barked.  “I don’t want to speak to you.”  She was nearly across the atrium now, she was so close.  

 

But Fíli caught up to her and grabbed her arm.  “Sigrid please, wait.”

 

She whirled to face him, eyes flashing, skirts a half second behind. _“Do not touch me,”_ she growled, yanking her arm away.  “You have no right.”

 

“Please, Sig, just let me explain--”

 

“So this was the plan all along, Fíli?  This is what you and Thorin decided to do once I kept writing you back?  I trusted you, I told you everything about me, everything about _Dale!”_  

 

“What? No, what are you--”

 

How long, Fi?  How long have you been playing me like this?”  Tears sprang up unbidden and Sigrid looked up to the ceiling in an effort to keep them at bay.

 

“Sigrid--”

 

“Get the silly little girl sweet on you so she doesn’t notice what she’s signing?  Get her smitten so she doesn’t care?  Woo her til she’ll do anything to be with brave, golden-haired, lion-hearted Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain,”  she mocked, sing-songing to hide her hurt, though her voice cracked on the last word.  “And then you’ll basically own Dale as well, isn’t that right?  What a prize with which to start your reign.”

 

She laughed bitterly, heart breaking.  “Did you ever mean anything you said to me? Or to _Tilda?_  She’s just a little girl, Fi, and you brought her right along for this fucked-up ride!  She loves you!  I--” she ended in a heaving sob, unable and unwilling to finish the thought.

 

“Sigrid, I had no idea Thorin would come in this low, you have to believe me,” Fíli pleaded, and took a step towards her.

 

“Why?” She stepped back.  “Why should I believe you?  He’s your uncle, Fíli, you’re his heir.  Why shouldn’t you be in this together?  I bet you were real proud, weren’t you?  The perfect plan executed last night.  Dance with me, steal me away, show me the stars?  Whisper in my ear, kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before, and there you have it.  Your braid in my hair and my kingdom in your hands!”

 

“Mahal, Sigrid, lower your voice!”

 

_“I will not quiet my rage to protect your comfort!”_ Sigrid’s voice bouncing back and forth all the way up to the top floor and back down off the bridges and doors.  As her voice rang around them, filling the room and crowding her ears, she pulled her fingers through her hair.  When she felt the courting braid, she felt her last bit of resolve snap.  Sigrid started pulling desperately at the braid, sobbing.  Tears streamed down her face and she doubled over, yanking and twisting and pulling, all the while begging, “Take it out, take it out!  I don’t want this any more, get this off of me!”  

 

“Mahal, Sigrid,” Fíli breathed.  He bent down and grabbed at her hands, trying to still them.  “Sig please stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

 

She straightened up and grabbed his overshirt.  “Give me your dagger, Fíli.”  He didn’t move.  Why wasn’t he moving?  She shook her fists hard, yanking at his clothes.  “Fíli give me your dagger, I know you’re always wearing forty of those fucking things.”

 

“Wh-- No!  I’m not going to give you my fucking dagger, Sigrid, please calm down, you’re not yourself!”

 

No, she wasn’t herself.  There was nothing she could do to stop.  “I need to get this fucking thing off me now if it means I cut it off, Fíli, _give me your dagger!”_  Her fingers still scrabbled wildly, pulling on his shirt, fighting against his protests.  

 

“Sigrid stop, you’re overreacting, I won’t give you a blade.  I can’t-- Dwarves only cut their hair in deep grief, it's-- you shouldn’t--”

 

“And what does this look like to you?”  Sigrid was tearing at his clothes, trying to get her hand inside to where she knew he kept a dagger hidden between his shirt and his tunic.  She was breathing in shallow, erratic sobs, unable to completely fill her lungs.  Her vision was tunnelling too, and all she could hear was her blood thrumming fast in her ears and that voice in her head demanding she throw that bead in her hair as far away as possible.  But she was losing strength.  Her knees buckled.

 

Fíli caught her in his arms and lowered her gently down, then took his hands in hers.  “Sig, you’re hyperventilating.  Come on, get your head between your knees.  There you go.  Deep breaths.”  

 

She tried to breathe with him as he rubbed gentle circles on her back.  After a moment she felt the warmth of his mouth pressing a soft, slow kiss into her hair, and she shrank away.  “Don’t…”

 

“Sigrid I am so, so sorry about what happened in there.  I was as shocked as you were.  You have to believe that I had no idea what Thorin was going to do.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything,” she whimpered, clutching her head.  Her skin was still crawling, but she was unable to move out of his reach.  Tears still rolled down her cheeks, if slower now, and she swiped her sleeve under her nose.  Exhausted from her outburst, she whispered, “I want to go to my room.”

 

He jumped to his feet and helped her up as well.  “Just promise me…”  Fíli looked pained.  Sigrid stared blankly back at him, waiting dispassionately for the end of the sentence.  “Promise me you won’t cut your hair off.  Just wait a bit, see what they come back with?  And if you call it off, you can have Tilda help you take the braid out before the farewell feast.”

 

Sigrid said nothing as she shuffled to her door.  She said nothing as she opened it, and said nothing as she stepped inside.  She tried to say nothing as she closed the door, but Fíli stuck his foot in the way.

 

“Please, Sigrid,” he begged, his nose and one eye the only thing she could see through the crack in the door.  “I’m going to go talk to Thorin.  I’m furious about this too, and I want to make it right.  Just please promise me you won’t do anything drastic in the meanwhile?”  He waited there, expression open and pleading, until finally Sigrid couldn’t take it any more.

 

“Fine, I promise,” she spat.  “Now go away.”

 

He nodded once, more to himself than anyone else, and walked away.  Sigrid closed the door with a soft click and padded to the bedroom.  Every step she shed another piece of clothing, leaving a trail of fabric from the door to her bed.  First one shoe, then another, then stockings and finally her dress, which she dropped in a heap by her bag.  More than anything she’d have liked to shed her skin but it seemed she was stuck with it.  So she crawled between the sheets, lay on her side and curled her knees to her chest.  Her outburst had cost her the last of her energy, yet her mind wouldn’t slow.  

 

How could he have done such a thing?  How had she not realized what had happened?  He had been playing her this whole time, he had lied to her the _entire time!_  She should have known, stupid girl, should have seen it coming.  What business did a bargeman’s daughter have with a crown fucking prince?  Life isn’t a fairy tale, it certainly never has been, so why hadn’t she been more careful?  Stupid, stupid girl.  This was what you got when you let yourself get all caught up in romance, and lost focus on what really mattered.  Another round of sobbing ripped out of her, and she muffled it in her pillow.

 

Even if Thorin’s second offer was more appropriate, Sigrid couldn’t imagine being happy about it.  Nothing would ever be the same between her and Fíli, not after he had so betrayed her like that.  Sure she’d do her duty for Dale and marry him, and bear him a child or three, but her heart ached at the thought.  Maybe he’d do her a favor and call the whole thing off.

 

Sigrid drifted in and out of consciousness, not really awake but not really sleeping, and she had no idea how much time had passed when she heard a quiet knock on the door.  “Go ‘way,” she called.

 

“Sigrid, it’s your da,” he answered, somewhat muffled by the door and extra space of the antechamber.  When she didn’t answer, he opened the door slowly.  “Hello little dove, can I come in?”

 

She groaned and rolled over onto her other side, facing away from the door to the bedroom.  

 

Bard entered the room, closing both doors behind him.  “Tilda’s with Bain, playing in the armory.  Told her we needed some more time alone, but she seems pretty entertained so I’m not worried about it.”  He walked around the bed and lay down on the other side, mirroring Sigrid.  “How are you doing, Sig?”

 

“Don’ wanna talk about it,” she sniffled, curling up tighter.  

 

He reached out and rubbed her arm lightly.  “Fine, I will.”  After a moment of silence, he withdrew his hand and continued,  “Once you left, I backed you up.  Thorin seemed annoyed at being caught out, but Fíli was really pissed, Sig.  He stormed out as soon as Thorin admitted he’d underestimated us.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“I do,” Bard countered gently.  “He yelled something in their tongue and went right after you.  Thorin and Balin looked pretty angry about it, so I figure he’d stuck up for you.”

 

Sigrid stared sullenly back at her father, wishing desperately he would stop defending Fíli.  “Da, he used me.  He made me feel that he really cared for me, and he gave me things so I would trust him, and I told him all about Dale, about the others who’d started to come calling for my hand, and that’s why they sent the invitation when they did.  So I’d fall for him, and this place, and sign on the dotted line with nary a thought.”    

 

“I think King Thorin may have done that, but I think he used Fíli just as much as he used you,” Bard replied.

 

“Da, I told you,” she whimpered.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  If the Dwarves come back with a contract that’s actually, truly fair, I’ll sign it.  For Dale, because we need their help to survive the winter.  But I’m not going to pretend that everything is going to be all right.”  She rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy over the bed.  

 

Bard did the same and folded his hands behind his head.  “Sig, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, ever.  If you’re going to be miserable the rest of your life, then don’t do this.  We’ll go home, give it some time.  You can court someone else, or no one else, I don’t care.  It will be tough without the Dwarves, but we’ll figure it out, you and me, and Bain and Tilda.  Just like always.”

 

“Oh Da, don’t be daft.  You have a kingdom to run now, an entire to people to feed.”

 

“Thranduil will assist us still.  You said it yourself: we only need to buy a few more years.  Your entire future isn’t worth 5 years of food and starter crops.  We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

 

Sigrid sighed.  What did she want?  She wanted her family to be taken care of, she wanted the people of Dale to get their feet under them, she wanted an entire wheel of cheese all to herself-- goodness was she hungry now after all that.  “I want…”  

 

She wanted to stop having feelings for Fíli. Unfortunately they hadn’t just evaporated when she found out what he’d done.   “I want everything to go back to the way it was,” she whimpered as she rolled over and shifted closer to her da, curling up against his side with her head on his shoulder.  

 

He curled his arm around her and kissed her forehead.  “I know, dove,” he murmured sadly.  “You know I know.”

 

Though she had been sure she had no tears left, new ones came and soaked into her father’s shirt.  “Da, I don’t even hate him,” she cried.  “I think that’s the worst part.  I can’t.  He…” Sigrid reached up and touched the bead Fíli had put in her hair.  A new wave of sobs wracked through her body and she hid her face in Bard’s chest.

 

“Sssh, darlin’, hush now,” he whispered.  “Take some breaths.  Rest up.”  Bard patted her back again, breathing slowly.  When she calmed back down he shifted away, placing a pillow under her head as he sat up.  “I’m going to go do a little digging and see what I can find out.  When you feel up to it, get cleaned up, and I’ll send Til down if there’s any news, yeah?”

 

Sigrid nodded, sniffing as she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her chemise.  

 

Bard stood up and went around the bed to kiss her forehead again.  “All right, little dove, I’ll see you later.”

 

“Love you, Da,” she called weakly.

 

“I love you too, Sig.”  He flashed a thin smile that faded too quickly, then turned and left her rooms.

 

Sigrid lay there a while longer, thinking about what her da had said.  She had other options, she’d said so herself.  She could marry someone else.  She could just not marry.  Unfortunately, she _did_ want to marry Fíli.  Only, the Fíli from last night.  The Fíli from last month.  The Fíli from when everything was wonderful.

 

So the question was, if she married the Fíli from today, would that be better or worse than being without him at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The titles for chapters 8 & 9 are taken from "Godzilla," by The Doubleclicks, which gave me a lot of feelings while I was writing this section. You can listen to it at https://thedoubleclicks.bandcamp.com/track/godzilla-2.


	10. Just Dèjá Vu

Fíli heard the door click shut behind him and he couldn’t help but look back.  The door was closed, just as he expected.  No sound broke through it, for the wood was much too dense and the rock of the walls no better.  He was worried about Sigrid; when she’d gone to her rooms it was as if she were the walking dead.  Hopefully Bard would go see to her after he’d finished with Thorin.

 

Thorin.  King Under the Mountain and Colossally Hurtful Idiot.  Fíli now thought he understood Bilbo’s actions with the Arkenstone quite a bit more now.  If Fíli could go back and do it all over again, he’d have just courted Sigrid like he wanted to and written his own damned contract, married her and then told his Uncle.  A painful pressure built up in his chest and he swallowed thickly.  Thorin had done it again.  He’d treated Fíli like he was just some pawn to be manipulated, not his sister’s son, his own blood.  

 

His entire life Fíli had made excuses for his Uncle:  he was not quite himself, he was so close to his lifelong dream he had to make ruthless decisions, he was already feeling the Dragon Sickness, he was just in a bad mood that day.  And after a while, Fíli believed himself, but the betrayal in the conference room had torn that wound open all over again.  Thorin had put him in the exact same place as in Lake Town - he’d promised Sigrid, promised himself that he would honor her and protect her and love her, just as he’d promised to protect Kíli - and Thorin expected Fíli to behave differently this time and fall in line?

 

He turned around a corner and ran smack into Kíli, who startled.  “Whoa, brother, I’ve been looking for you.  What happened back there?”

 

Fíli scowled.  “Thorin is a colossal idiot and continues to ruin my life at every opportunity, and I continue to let him.”

 

“Well that’s a little dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”  

 

“I wouldn’t, he frowned.  “I trusted him to write our marriage contract, I--  I trusted him so much I didn’t even get there ahead of time to read the fucking document before he handed it over to Sigrid, which was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.  It was the most insulting thing I’ve seen in my entire life.  Completely takes advantage of our relationship to basically _own_ Dale for the next, what, sixty years? Seventy? The length of our marriage which, odds are, would come down to the length of Sigrid’s life,”  Fíli spat.  “And Sigrid thinks I was in on it.  She thinks that Thorin and I were working together, to this end, the entire time!”

 

Kíli sobered as he took in what Fíli was saying.  “I don’t understand...”

 

“Exclusive trade rights, price-setting, that kind of thing, and a pitiful brideprice to start the whole thing off,” Fíli spat.  “Mahal, but Sigrid is smart, Kíli.  Saw straight through it right away, called him on it and stormed out.  She’s so… She’s so fucking amazing, Ki, she’s smart, and fearless, and-- She deserves so much better than this.  And she knows it.  She was devastated, she-- she tried to cut her braid off, Kíli.  This might be the end of it.”

 

“She what?!  Mahal, Fi, what are you going to do?”

 

Fíli sighed.  “I don’t really know.  Sigrid said in the meeting that she would give Thorin until dinner to produce a second draft, but she doesn’t trust me anymore, and I…” he exhaled heavily.  “When I left her at her room, she looked so miserable.  What kind of Dwarf am I if I let her sign her life away on that contract?”  He began to pace down the hall, nervous energy needing an outlet.

 

“Think this through,” Kíli urged, following him.  “If you don’t sign the new contract, then it looks like you’re refusing her terms.  You and I both know that you do actually care for her.  You just need to prove it to her and everything will be fine in the end.”

 

“Easy for you to say.  That Elf’s been yours since the spiders of Mirkwood.  Sigrid is--”

 

“Sigrid is in love with you, Fíli,” Kíli interrupted.  “If she weren’t, she wouldn’t have blown past me biting right through her lip.  She wouldn’t have wanted rid of your braid like that, she’d have merely negotiated a better term and sh-- _Ah ah ah,_ don’t interrupt-- She’d’ve done what needed to be done, not shut herself in her room.  And you’re in love with her too, if your constant fretting about her is any indication.”

 

“I’m not in-- I just--”  

 

Kíli stopped walking and stared at his brother silently, unimpressed.

 

“All right, all right.  I am in love with her.  So what now, since you’ve got the damned confession out of me?”  Fíli looked at his feet and crossed his arms.  Saying it out loud wouldn’t change anything.

 

“Now you go tell Thorin that he can’t pull this shit on us all the time, and you fix the contract along with him so you’re not shocked a second time around, and you find her something really nice for a peace offering, if there’s time left.”  Kíli jerked his head in the direction they’d been walking.  “Get moving.  Dinner is in three hours.”

 

When they arrived at the conference room, the door was only open a crack, but Thorin and Balin’s voices filtered through clearly.  Kíli clapped Fíli on the back and announced, “I leave you here, brother.  I’ve given you your pep talk, but this is something with which I fear I cannot be helpful.  Mahal be with you, perhaps He can move Thorin’s heart.”

 

Fíli nodded gravely, took a deep breath, and entered.

 

“No, I’m holding fast on this,” Thorin argued, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Thorin, please,” Balin placated, “that’s nothing to sneeze at even for a Dwarf.  Consider how you may be limiting us as well as them.  And she’ll never agree to it besides.”

 

“Thorin,” Fíli interrupted, schooling his face into the sternest look he could muster, “I need to speak with you.”

 

His uncle turned to face him.  “Ah, so you deign to speak with me, the _Pyrite King,_ hm?  You’re upset with the contract too.  Why?”

 

Fíli strode to the table and leaned forward, bracing himself with both hands.  “Listen, Thorin.  This is my life you’re playing with.  This is my future wife you are insulting with every line.  You can’t continue to treat me like this.  I won’t let you.”

 

“I want to do what’s best for Erebor _and for you,_ Fíli, just as I always have.  And that means taking advantage of circumstances.  Someday you will be King, and you will underst--”

 

“Not at this rate!  I’ve half a mind to forswear my claim and go live in Dale, though that may still be too close to you and your ruthless manipulations!”  He smacked the table and straightened.  “Ever since we met back up in the Shire, you have never treated me as your equal, as your heir.  Kíli either!  You _left him_ in Lake Town, and forced me to choose between the promise I made my mother, and the promise I made to you.  Then you completely abandoned us!  Did you know how quickly the Orcs had found us?  Did you know that if it weren’t for Tauriel, your sister’s son would be dead?  Did you care?”  He paused, waiting for a reaction from his Uncle.

 

When Thorin’s gaze hardly flickered, Fíli felt a new surge of anger flare up in his gut.  “And after, Uncle, did you realize we were still there, helpless in Lake Town, when Smaug attacked?  Or were you too taken by the Sickness to even wonder how we’d gotten back to the Mountain?  All my life you’ve been training me to lead your kingdom when you’re gone.  All my life you’ve been saying _‘Someday you will be King, and you will understand.’_  But I don’t understand, I never will, and frankly I’m not sure I ever _want to_ understand!”

 

Thorin rose, then, despite Balin’s hand on his arm.  “What are you saying, Fíli?”

 

“I’m saying that this time I see what you’re doing, and I won’t let you.  I gave her my bead, Thorin, I wove _our braid_ into her hair.  And you gave her that scroll and threw everything out the window!”  Fíli took a moment to catch his breath and order his thoughts.  He shook his head and continued lowly, “She hates me now, Uncle.  Was that part of your plan?”

 

Balin answered, “Of course not, Fíli, we--”

 

Fíli held up a hand.  “Don’t even try to defend yourself, Mister Balin.  You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!  Damn it, this kingdom exists in the rest of the world.  That twenty-two year old woman you so underestimated saw the repercussions of your actions immediately.  I expected you of all people to be able to think a little further down the line.”  

 

The older Dwarf shrunk back, abashed, but Thorin stayed stern.  “Fíli, you have always known that more was expected of you.”

 

“Aye, more.   _But not all._  Either you actually work with me on this, or I’m done.  Completely done.  The Line of Durin down one more branch.  Go ahead, see if Kíli’s more amenable to your manipulations.  I think you’ll find he’s not.”

 

The lamps hissed in the silence that followed.  Tension hung in the air as Thorin and Fíli stared at each other, unmoving.  Frankly, Fíli was half afraid Thorin would throw him out before he could leave on his own terms but he’d be damned if he were the first one to back down this time.  After a long moment, Thorin spoke.  “You wouldn’t throw away your future, _our future,_ like this.”

 

Wordlessly Fíli took the paper they’d been working on and tore a clean piece off the bottom.  He dipped the quill and began writing as quickly as he could.  

 

 _“I, Fíli, Son of Dís, Heir of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, do hereby renounce all claim to the throne of Durin, all titles, all lands, and all wealth thereof.  I do so name my brother Kíli, Son of Dís, to be heir to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.  I swear this by my own volition, without coercion or impairment.”_ Fíli shoved it back to his uncle, who read it silently.  “Clean up your mess.  Or I sign it and walk out this door forever.”

 

Silence, again, as Fíli met his uncle’s sullen stare.  Had the lamps begun to burn hotter?  A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.  He was sure that Thorin was going to let him leave now.  Everything Fíli had been working for his entire life, all the lessons, all the training, all the expectations of his people, Mahal, _of his parents,_ thrown out like so much dishwater.  Still Thorin said nothing, calling his bluff.  Right as Fíli reached to take the paper back and sign his name, his uncle dropped his gaze.  “Very well.  Get to work.  We’re running out of time.”

 

~*~

 

_...Any and all heirs henceforth resulting from the Union shall unequivocally renounce all claim to the Throne of Dale, unless all other lines of succession should be severed.  Any and all heirs henceforth resulting from the Union shall unequivocally succeed the Throne of Durin, receiving full rights of the Sons of Durin in order of their birth, unless and until one shall themself produce an heir.  Any and all heirs henceforth resulting from unions occurring after the death of one Partner shall unequivocally fall in line after those such heirs resulting from this first Union._

_The Lady Sigrid retains rights to travel as she pleases with no hindrances save cases of safety such as inclement weather or other outside threat.  She retains rights to appoint and maintain her own attendants, and issue invitations to Erebor to whomsoever she chooses, whensoever she chooses._

_Therefore may this document show sufficient authority for solemnizing the marriage of said parties below, and that there is no legal impediment thereto._

_I am of sound mind, concur with all points written in this contract, and sign this document willingly._

_ __ ___ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Fíli, son of Dís, Prince Under the MountainSigrid, daughter of Bard, Lady of Dale_

_Date:_

_In my presence on [Date], Fíli, son of Dís, and Sigrid, daughter of Bard, acknowledged their signatures on this document before me._

_Thorin, of the Line of Durin, King Under the Mountain_

_Bard, of the Line of Girion, King of Dale_

 

Fíli looked over the document one last time, hoping there hadn’t been anything he’d missed as he, Thorin and Balin had reworked the entire thing.  Balin must have gotten Bard to accept that title for the sake of the contract.  Impressive work considering how he railed against anyone in the city calling him a king.   “So there it is. Sigrid, do you have any changes to suggest?”

 

Across the table from him Sigrid shook her head, looking over her copy with her father at the corner of the table.  Her face was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed, but she was like steel, sitting there in front of Thorin like he was so much dung on her shoe.  She looked to Bard, and he gave the slightest shake of his head.  With one last look at the paper in her hands she answered,  “No, this serves.  A much improved revision.  I knew you had it in you,” she joked weakly.

 

“Wonderful!” Balin replied a mite too cheerily, retrieving the two copies of the contract.  “We’ll hold one, and Bard, you hold one, and on your wedding day we’ll sign them both.  Now the document outlines a courting period of three months, and you’ll notice we did keep in Fíli’s suggestion allowing either of you to end the engagement, for any reason, up to and including the day of the wedding.”

 

“Aye, I noticed,” she acknowledged.  Sigrid was looking at him curiously but he looked down to his hands, folded on the table.  Fíli would really rather not air his insecurities in front of everyone assembled.  Thorin and Bard sat at opposite ends of the long table, and Fíli and Sigrid on opposite sides with their brothers.  They’d come for emotional support, but Fíli felt much more stifled than supported at this point.

 

“Well then,” Thorin rumbled from the head of the table.  “If that’s all.”  He stood and Balin followed, then Kíli and Fíli as well.  Thorin and Balin each embraced him tightly, bumping foreheads with him before they left the room.  

 

Kíli went around to the other side of the table first, to speak with Sigrid.  He watched curiously as his brother pressed something into her hand, and he heard mutterings of _“still yours,”_ and _“I’ll understand.”_ Sigrid nodded, mouth pressed in a tight line, and Kíli patted her hand kindly before coming back around the table to Fíli.  “You aren’t out of the woods yet, brother, but you’re on your way, hm?”  He tapped his forehead gently to Fíli’s and grinned his million-watt smile as he sauntered out of the room.  “See you at dinner.”

 

Bain and Bard sat at the table still, glancing at each other, obviously unsure what to do now.  Sigrid stood and cleared her throat.  “Da, Bain, will you please give me a moment with Prince Fíli?”  At their hesitation she sighed and made a shooing motion.  “Go on, just a moment, then I’ll be along to help Til get ready for dinner.”  

 

Fíli stood motionless as the two Men filed past him.  She was probably just being kind, sending the audience away before she gave him an earful.  Instead she opened her hand, displaying a small, silver thing.  “Surprise,” she announced, though there was little joy in her voice.  “I got you something after all.”

 

He picked up the bead and peered at it carefully.  The silver was of fine quality, fashioned into a square bead with a bright, amber orange stone set in the center and arrows etched along the top and bottom, pointing in opposite directions.  “This looks like Kíli’s work,” he said, puzzled.

 

Sigrid nodded.  “I just… Well, it felt wrong to leave here without giving you a bead as well, and I figured Kíli could help me.  That’s what I asked him about in the armory yesterday. I gave him a pin my mother left me, and he had the idea for the design so he fashioned it for me.  I think it’s quite clever, actually.  I’m surprised he did such fine work in the little time I gave him.”

 

“Aye, arrows for the family of Bard the Bowman.  I’m sure he’s proud of that.  He’s always had a knack for small pretty things.”  Fíli made to reach out and touch her arm but hesitated, unwilling to push the limits of this truce Sigrid had offered him.

 

“I, erm, I could try to put in for you, if I knew what it was supposed to look like,” she stared at her hands and shifted nervously.  “But anyway I’d had it made, and here I’m still wearing yours so, I figured we should be even, you know?”

 

Fíli started pulling the large clip out of his hair, then separating out a section to mirror Sigrid’s.  “Well, as you are not the heir nor a Dwarf of Durin, I shall wear a flat braid of four regular strands.  Rather simple.  You’ll catch on quick with a bit of practice.”  He set the bead on the table, sat down next to her and started to weave his own hair, then threaded the bead onto the braid below his ear and tied it off quickly.  It was probably lumpy and uneven, since he hadn’t any combs or mirrors, but it would serve for now.

 

“Sigrid, I am truly, truly sorry about everything that happened today,” he murmured, looking up at her.  “I told Thorin that if he didn’t make it right, I was going to forswear my claim to the throne.  No matter if-- if you still never wanted to see me again.  He can’t treat people that way.”  He looked down, unable to meet her surprised eyes.  “I wanted you to know that.”

 

“Fíli…” she breathed, wringing her hands.

 

“That’s why I had those escape clauses added, as well,” he continued, sweat beading on his brow and neck from the heat of the lamps in the conference room and the discomfort of the whole situation.  “You probably don’t believe me, and I don’t blame you.  But I… I still care for you deeply, Sigrid, I have for some time now.  And I don’t want us to be stuck in a marriage you don’t really want.  If you decide you won’t be happy with me, please just call off the courtship.  I can’t…”  Fíli coughed, trying to shake the painful tightness in his throat, and raised his eyes back to hers.  “I couldn’t live that way.

 

“So... take out the braid, throw away the bead, melt it down, send it back, whatever you like.  It’s yours.  All you need to do is tell me, and I’ll respect your wishes.  Tonight, tomorrow, two months and twenty nine days from now, it doesn’t matter.”

 

Sigrid slumped against a chair with a sigh.  “Fíli, I just don’t know right now.  I’m-- I’m hurt, and I’m confused, and I hardly even--” she paused, sliding her fingers into her hair and pulling in frustration.  “Ugh!  I want to believe you, I do, but…”

 

Fíli dug in his pockets and produced a slip of paper, handing it over to Sigrid.  “Well there’s that much I can prove to you.”  He propped himself on his elbow while she read, waiting to see what she’d think.

 

Her eyes scanned the note and she looked back up at him, tears in her eyes.  “Why?  This is your whole life, what if I… You know, what if I still can’t…”

 

He shook his head and shrugged.  “I mean what I say.  I lo-” He smothered the word in another cough.  This was not at all the right time.  He would only add to the pressure Sigrid had put on herself, and moreover, Fíli wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the look on her face if she didn’t love him back.  

 

“I care about you very, very much, and this act of Thorin’s was the last straw.  I don’t think I ever told you, but… Back in Lake Town, when Thorin and the rest left, and Ki and I tried to go with him--”  He winced. “It was stupid, Kíli was in no shape to travel, obviously.  So Thorin told him to stay, and me to go with him to the Mountain.”  This whole day had been so achingly familiar.  When Sigrid tossed the contract aside and looked at him he’d instead seen Kíli’s face when Thorin told him he had to stay behind.  “I’ve always known I’d made the right decision in Lake Town.  I belonged with my brother, I’d promised our mother I’d look after him.  And I promised you, that I’d take care of you.”

 

Sigrid looked down at her lap and murmured, “I know a bit about promising to take care of someone.  Haven’t gotten used to being on the other end of that promise yet, I suppose.”  

 

He smiled sadly, hoping that she wouldn’t have to feel that way forever.  “So anyway, if he had pushed it I’d have moved.  To Dale, probably, but if you hadn’t wanted to see me again, I would have respected that and probably go back to the Blue Mountains, stay with my mother for a while, you know, seen if that worked out.”  After a moment he added bashfully, “I mean, I would _prefer_ if you would have me, throne or not.  You alone are worth it all.”  

 

Fíli shifted forward in his seat, trying to diffuse the heavy atmosphere.  “But it’s not signed.  I’m still a prince for now.  I’ll probably burn it tonight.”  He chuckled and took the paper back from her, stuffing it in his pocket again.  “I suppose if I needed to I could always write out a new copy.”

 

Sigrid stared, eyes wide, lips pressed tightly together.  Finally she said, “I can’t just go back to the way it was.”

 

“I don’t expect you to.”

 

“I, uh, can I give it some time?  We leave tomorrow, but-- And Thorin, I just...”

 

“No rush.  Like I said, you can change your mind tomorrow or right up at the ceremony and I’ll honor it.  No questions asked.”

 

She nodded, licked her lips, and breathed out a whoosh of air.  A small smile flashed over her features and she whispered, “All right.  Um.”  Then, louder, more confidently, “All right.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for our engagement dinner.”  Sigrid curtsied briefly and left the room.

 

He sat there, watching her leave, absently fingering the new bead in his hair.  She hadn’t rejected him outright.  She’d given him her bead even before he’d shown her the paper.  His braid was still in her hair.  

 

It wasn’t over yet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the formatting of the contract got a little ugly but so it goes. Thanks everyone for your kind words so far! I appreciate each and every one of you readers. <3


	11. Kisses Building Bridges

As she strode down the corridor towards her rooms, Sigrid took a deep breath, face tilted up towards the sky she couldn’t see.  Her feelings were absolutely all over the place, and she had to rein it in before she went to dinner.  The hurt was still there, underlying all of it, but she was fairly confident now that Fíli had been telling the truth.  He had been willing to give up everything to stand up for her.  He had made sure she could still call the whole thing off, even after accepting the terms of the contract.  He really seemed to want her to be happy.

 

Yet her heart ached to think of him.  She couldn’t just forget what happened.  Was Thorin going to keep trying to manipulate them even after their marriage was sealed?  Could she live like that?  Would she be able to keep fighting alone, after her father and siblings had long left the Mountain?  Yet a voice in the back of her mind whispered to her; Fíli had come to her defense immediately, risking his entire life’s work for her even after she had sent him away.  At that, he had chased after her, stayed with her in the atrium, helped to calm her as her grief totally consumed her.  Maybe…  Maybe it could be all right?  

 

By the Valar, Sigrid was exhausted though.  As if that mattered; she had to put on a pretty face and celebrate the engagement before she and her family were to leave.  She couldn’t wait to get home and talk to Shailla about everything.  Hopefully a different perspective would help her figure things out.  

 

Sigrid opened the door to her quarters and immediately heard a soft _sproing, sproing_ coming from the bedroom.  “Tilda,” she called.  “What have we told you about jumping on the bed?”

 

Two small feet hit the floor with a thud, and Tilda arrived at the bedroom door looking the perfect picture of innocence.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sig, I don’t jump on beds.”

 

“Aye?  Well your messy hair disagrees with you.  Come on, brush it out.  We must get ready for dinner.”

 

The two sisters went to the bathroom.  While Sigrid wet a washcloth, Tilda sat down in front of the vanity and started pulling a brush through her hair.  “So you’re going to marry Fíli now?”

 

“Hmph.  Isn’t that the question,” she muttered, muffling her speech as she wiped her face off with the cloth.

 

“Right, Sig?” Tilda pressed, grinning back at her through the mirror.  

 

She lowered her hands and looked back somberly at her little sister.  “Tilda, I don’t want to lie to you.  Prince Fíli and King Thorin hurt my feelings today, and Da’s.  Fíli tried to make it better, but…”

 

“But just because someone says sorry doesn’t mean you aren’t still sad.”  Tilda finished.

 

“Exactly, lil bug,” Sigrid smiled and pulled a ribbon off the vanity.  She tied up her sister’s hair and kissed the top of her head.  “But I’m going to see how it goes.  There will be a party tonight, and then we’ll go home tomorrow, and then I have three months to decide.  Just because I’m engaged doesn’t mean I’m wed yet.  But we’re still going to celebrate tonight.”

 

“Well I’m sure that at the party he’ll be very charming and sweep you off your feet and you’ll fall in love and have a beautiful wedding and live happily ever after,” the younger girl announced with certainty, bouncing back up to her feet.

 

“All in one day?  Sounds busy,”  Sigrid teased back.  She sat down in front of the mirror and started brushing her own hair, being careful of the beaded braid.  Tilda made a face and she laughed.  “Ah well, I hope you’re right, love.  I sure hope you’re right.”

 

~*~

 

Sigrid sat again at the head table in the dining hall, again wearing her new, best dress and all the jewelry she owned.  Her hair was twisted into a roll of curls along her neck, making sure her courting braid and bead were plainly visible.  Perhaps if she looked the part of a happy bride-to-be, she’d actually feel it.  

 

She had sent Tilda away as soon as she was ready for the feast, and spent the rest of the afternoon alone under the guise of packing and preparing for their journey back to Dale.  When that had taken all of fifteen minutes, she’d tried to eat up the time in other ways.  She’d sat in the bath until her fingers and toes were so wrinkled nothing she touched felt quite right, brushed her hair within an inch of its life, and then styled it about fifty different ways before she settled on the final product.

 

Bain had eventually come to escort both Tilda and her to dinner, and seemed determined to stay by her side the whole night.  The head table had been rearranged so she now sat between him and her Da, slowly working away at the roast potatoes and leg of lamb she’d been served.  Dwarves made their way forward now and then, to give their congratulations to Fíli and Sigrid.  She plastered a smile on her face and shook everyone’s hands while Bain leaned over every so often to make a joke under his breath.  “Careful, sis,” he muttered, “you’re looking a bit manic.  One of these Dwarves will take your expression alone as a challenge to duel.”

 

After a bit, Fíli, Kíli, and the other Dwarves from before set up their band and started playing.  “Bain, dance with me!” Tilda squealed happily, holding her hands out to him.  He rose and brought her to the floor, holding her hands as she spun and danced around him.  Sigrid smiled as she watched them.  Bain stood so much taller above the Dwarves that it was comical, especially as Tilda blended in so well.  

 

“Ah, look at them,” Bard said, breaking into her thoughts as he speared a piece of potato she’d left on her plate. “I think Tilda’s going to be sad to leave.”

 

She nodded and took a sip of her wine.  “I’m ready to be home.”

 

After a moment, Bard started again, “I see the Dwarf Prince has got himself a new hairdo.”

 

Sigrid turned to see him looking at her expectantly.  “...Aye…?”

 

“Does that mean ye’ve forgiven him?”  

 

Sigrid groaned, “I don’t know, Da, come on.  Are you trying to tell me you haven’t?  Or I shouldn’t?”

 

Bard shrugged and grabbed another piece of potato.  “What I think doesn’t matter.”

 

“You’re being difficult on purpose,” she groaned, crossing her arms and looking out to the floor again.  She watched her siblings, the Dwarves she knew and ones she didn’t, and then the band.  Kíli kept the beat with his entire body, shoulders dipping to and fro, feet stomping.  His brother was more reserved; his foot tapped in time, and every so often he’d punctuate a note with a nod, or tapping his bow against the body of his fiddle.  He looked up and grinned when he met her gaze, and pain wracked her heart.  She looked back to her lap.  

 

“I don’t know, Da,” she repeated, quieter.  “He… After we spoke yesterday, I do believe him when he says that he didn’t know what Thorin was going to do.”

 

“But…?”

 

She looked over at him and gave a weak smile.  “But that doesn’t make the hurt just disappear.  Or,” she lowered her voice, “turn our esteemed host into a person I want to be around for the rest of my life.”

 

He chuckled and rose to his feet.  “Well.  A lot can happen in a few months.  Til then, why don’t you have a dance with your old Da?”

 

Sigrid smiled and followed him out to the floor.  The music slowed and she let her father lead her in lazy circles on the outside of the crowd.  He was warm, and she lay her cheek on his chest with a sigh.  One of the fiddles took a high, melancholy solo that floated over the rest of the noise of the room.  Goosebumps rose all down Sigrid’s arms and she turned her head to watch the musicians.  It was Fíli playing; Kíli had stepped back, occasionally adding a line of harmony here or there, allowing Fíli’s melody to come through.  His eyes were closed and he swayed ever so slightly from side to side.  Sigrid couldn’t look away, and as the solo finished and the rest of the band swelled with the refrain, Fíli opened his eyes.  He found her immediately, and a hint of a smile ghosted across his features before he turned to the other musicians to end the song together.

 

“Look at the two of you,” Bard teased gently.  “I won’t need dessert for a month with all this sweetness.”

 

“Da,” she tutted, rolling her eyes.

 

“Nah, I can tell, you’re going to stick it out.  The poor fellow played that just for you, and in front of everyone no less.  He’s in it for the long haul.”  The last note of the song faded away, and a smattering of applause filled the air.  

 

When her father let her go, she found herself plastering a smile back on her face as she was passed around to every Dwarf in Erebor.  Apparently it was quite a popular wedding-time tradition.  As the night wore on she was swept from arm to arm, sometimes only spending a few measures with her partner before someone new pulled her away.  Eventually the playful energy infected her too and she found herself having fun. Dori, Nori and Ori jostled each other for her attention, each finding a moment to tell her how pleased they were to hear she’d soon be staying for good.  Dwalin gruffly expressed his congratulations and Bombur whisked her back and forth happily before Bofur shoved him aside.

 

“Lady Sigrid, you’re looking particularly beautiful tonight,” he said gallantly, “I must say the braid quite becomes you.”

 

“Oh hush, Bofur,” she laughed, looking away.

 

“In truth, my lady, I am glad to hear you accepted the proposal in the end.”  When Sigrid didn’t answer immediately, he plowed on.  “He’s a good lad.  He’ll treat you right.  I won’t lie to you, there’s some that would rather see a nice thick beard on their Queen-to-be, but you needn’t worry about them, we’ll put them to rights.  They didn’t see you in Lake Town, they don’t know of your work in Dale.  You will make a wonderful partner to our future king.”  He elbowed away another Dwarf that had come to cut in, smiling earnestly at her.

 

Sigrid could scarcely do anything but blush, tripping over her own feet just a bit.  “Bofur,” she sighed, “Why are you telling me all this?  Why are you being so kind?”

 

He looked back and forth before leaning in conspiratorially.  “It’s the Mountain’s worst-kept secret that Thorin nearly blew it.  I want you to know we don’t all feel the same.”

 

Her face fell.  Had her outburst really carried through the whole Mountain?  “Bofur, I--”

 

“No, you don’t have to say anything about it.  Those of us in the Company, we… _We know Thorin,_ y’ken?  You’re a strong woman, Lady Sigrid, and you’re compassionate.  I’ll never forget all you did for us in Lake Town.  I just wanted you to know that we’ll be blessed to have you.  Me ‘n the rest support you one hundred percent.”

 

“Oi, Bofur, stop hogging the attentions of my betrothed,” Fíli called as he wove his way through the other dancers to them.  “I believe it’s my turn to dance with the lady.”

 

Bofur smiled again kindly and nodded towards Fíli.  “He’ll treat you right, my lady.  He’s a good lad--”  As the Prince approached he raised his voice to joke, “--If a bit thick.”

 

Sigrid kissed his cheek.  “Thank you, Bofur.  I am so thankful to count you as a friend.”

 

“Full of lies, that one.  Don’t listen to a single word,” Fíli joked as Bofur slipped away.  He led them towards the middle of the floor, carefully keeping a respectable distance between them.

 

She was grateful to see that Fíli seemed committed to moving at whatever pace she set.  The day’s events had drained her; she barely had enough energy to play her part in front of the assembly.  It was a comfort not to have to do that _and_ fend off the prince’s advances, be they emotional or physical.  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so harsh.  Bofur is like the silly, yet kindly uncle I never had.”

 

He chuckled and spun her gently.  As she returned to him he replied, “Aye, he’s that for everyone, I think.”  After a moment he pulled her just slightly closer to confess, “I’ll be sad to see you leave tomorrow.”

 

Sigrid hesitated.  She was looking forward to going home; hopefully getting some distance would help clarify things for her so she could make her final decision.  She missed her bed, her friends, seeing the sky every day, she even missed the wind sneaking in around the window panes, and the noise of the city which was so different from the thrum of activity in Erebor.  

 

Fíli smiled sadly, misunderstanding.  “I can see that you don’t feel the same.  Sorry to have brought it up; I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

 

“Fíli, I… This may be my last time in Dale while I still call it my home, and it only just became so this year.  I don’t know how to explain, everything has changed so much in the past year.  I-- I’ll be leaving my family, my friends.  I think it’s normal and reasonable to want to say goodbye.”  She pulled away from him as they turned in the steps of the dance.  “I deserve at least that.”

 

“You deserve so much more, Sig.”

 

They were quiet for a while, and as they spun around the dance floor Sigrid put on her polite smile, acutely aware of all the eyes on them.  When the last chord hung in the air, Fíli bowed before her, kissing her hand.  Always so gallant, this one, though he surely noticed their audience as well.  When he rose, she pulled him close and kissed the corner of his mouth lightly.  “Thank you for the lovely dance,” she murmured.  “I think it’s time for me to turn in, though.”

 

Fíli escorted her off the floor, towards Tilda whose energy was quickly waning.  “Looks like the little lass is done for,” he laughed.

 

Tilda woke up with a snort, jerking away from the wall she’d been leaning against.  “I am not!”

 

“You are so,” Sigrid agreed.  “Come, we’ve quite the journey ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

As Tilda picked herself up off the floor, Fíli turned to Sigrid and took her hand.  “I’ll be there to see you off in the morning.  Unless you’d rather…”

 

“No, that sounds… Nice.” She squeezed his hand before releasing it to take Tilda’s.  “Come on, lil bug.  Say good night to Prince Fíli.”

 

“G’night, Pr’Fíli,” the younger girl yawned, dragging her feet as she headed towards the door.

 

“Good night, Fí,” Sigrid echoed, pushing Tilda gently forward.  

 

They reached their bedroom in silence, and through her yawns Tilda managed to say, “I like it here.  Can I come back?”

 

Sigrid folded her dress carefully and placed it in her luggage.  “I expect you’ll be back all the time, if I marry Fíli.”

 

“So you forgive him?” she asked, climbing into bed.

 

“I think I might,” Sigrid admitted as she too slipped between the sheets.  

 

~*~

 

The horses whickered quietly in front of the main gate, shifting from foot to foot as Bard and Bain loaded them up with luggage.  Sigrid stood with her mare, pulling her fingers through the white mane and letting her nuzzle at her pockets for snacks.  “Ssh, Korah, we’ll be on our way soon.”  She made her way around the horse, checking the straps of her saddle and bridle.  

 

“Sig, come over here a second, will ya?” her brother called.  He was holding the largest bag up on the rump of his horse, but its unwieldy shape was giving him trouble.  “I’m outta hands.”

 

She trotted over and slid under his arms to lash the straps across the bag, pulling them through their buckles as tightly as she could.  “Crimeny, Bain, did you bathe at all while you were here?” she teased as she pulled the last tie into a bow.  “I think my horse smells better than you.”

 

“We try to take good care of them,” Fíli laughed as Bain pushed Sigrid into the horse, who whinnied and side-stepped away.

 

Sigrid squeaked as she tried to keep her footing.  Once she regained her balance, she brushed her skirts off to buy herself some time.  “Prince Fíli, good morning.”

 

“Hello, Sigrid,” he said fondly, patting the nose of Bain’s horse.  They stood there, for a moment, and Sigrid wasn’t sure what to say.  She shifted, cleared her throat, sniffed.  Bain melted away to help with the rest of the packing, and Fíli’s lips twitched like he was about to say something, but couldn’t.

 

“I, ah,” she began, then began again.  “Thank you so much for bringing us here.  I really enjoyed my stay.  Erm.  Mostly.”

 

Fíli huffed a laugh.  “Aye, except for the whole ‘Grievous Personal Insult to You and All Your People’ thing, we had a good time, didn’t we?”  

 

Ice broken, Sigrid laughed too and went back to quiet her horse, who was getting antsy.  “We did.”

 

He followed her and pet the horse’s nose gently.  “I brought something for you, pretty thing,” he cooed.

 

“Wh-- _Fíli!”_ Sigrid blushed furiously, half from embarrassment and half from anger, looking around her to see if anyone was listening. “What are you-- You can’t be serious right now!”

 

“Relax, relax, I was talking to the horse,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at her as he held up a sugar cube between two fingers.  Korah plucked it delicately from his hand, and Fíli laughed.

 

“Gods, Fíli,” she groaned, pushing at his shoulder.  “Why must you tease me so? And as I’m about to leave!”

 

“No, my lady, I never tease,” he shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear.  

 

By the Valar, he was handsome.  Her heartache had made her forget, but as he laughed at her and made goofy faces at the horse, she felt a bolt of heat in her belly.  His braids were new, hair combed neatly, and as he bobbed his head back and forth the beads gleamed in the light.  “Oh, but you do tease me,” she argued, though there was no fight in her words.  He looked over his shoulder at her and she felt her ears grow pink.  

 

“I swear to Mahal and all the Valar, I do not tease,” he insisted.  Turning all the way around now, he slipped a hand inside his shirt.  “I did, actually, bring you something.”  He produced a dagger about four inches long with a light brown leather sheath.  “I want you to have this, to keep it on you when you’re out.”

 

Sigrid took it from him and pulled the blade out of the scabbard.  “It’s light,” she said, surprised.  The metal shone in the low light of the lanterns, bringing out the floral design etched halfway down the blade.  

 

“I wanted you to have something you could keep in your boot, or under your shirt--”

 

“Under my shirt?”  Sigrid interrupted, coy smile on her lips.  “My Prince, how much time have you spent thinking about what I keep under my shirt?”  This time his ears burned and she laughed, victorious.  

 

“No, that’s not-- That’s not what I meant!”  Fíli sighed heavily.  “You…”

 

She replaced the blade and pushed her hair behind her ear.  “It’s beautiful, Fí.  Thank you.”

 

“Please promise me you’ll keep it on you.”  

 

His tone sobered her immediately, and she knelt down on the ground, pulled her skirt up a bit and slid the dagger in the top of her boot.  “There.  I promise.  Nothing’s going to happen to me, though.”

 

“Humor me?” he asked.  “It’s just…  Every Dwarf keeps some sort of weapon on them all the time, you know, it’s just part of getting dressed.  I’d feel better, if you had at least one blade on you.  Especially as Orcs were seen in the foothills last night.”

 

“Are you sure? I hardly know what to do with it.”

 

“Stick ‘em with the pointy end,” he teased as she stood.  “No, no, I promise you, I’ll teach you a few things if you like, um, later.”

 

Later.  What were they doing, talking about later?  She looked down at her hands, now empty, and busied them pulling at her clothes.  “That sounds… nice.”  What did it say about her, that she would just _get over_ what had happened here, just because a handsome face gave her a fancy knife and teased her about her horse?  Yet she had to admit it did sound nice.  Seeing him again.  Coming back here.  Learning to defend herself.  Kissing him again.

 

Oh she was sunk.  She looked back up at him and he smiled again.  “I’ll write you, when I get home.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“All right, let’s get on the road,” Da called, pulling the last buckle of his horse’s saddle tight.  “We’re burning daylight.”

 

Sigrid looked behind her and saw her brother already mounted on his horse with her sister sitting in front of him.  “Come on, Sig!  Let’s go!” he called.  “Stop making eyes at the Dwarf, we need to get moving.”

 

She sighed and turned back to Fíli, who was looking at her with a bashful smile.  “I guess that’s my cue.”

 

“Good bye, Sigrid.  Have safe travels.”  He took an uncertain step towards her, his hand reached out for hers.

 

Sigrid took his hand and closed the distance between them, then dipped her head and gave him a quick, chaste kiss.  His mustache brushed under her nose but his lips were soft and warm, just as they were the first time they’d kissed.  Oh, but she could get used to that.  She straightened up, darted her tongue out between her lips and smiled.  “Good bye, Fíli.  Look for my letter, hm?”  She hooked her foot in the stirrup, lifting up into the saddle smoothly, and gave a little wave..  

 

She turned her horse and pulled her hood up over her head as she followed her family out of the gate.  Licking her lips again, she shifted on her saddle and rolled her eyes at herself.  Oh, she liked kissing that Dwarf, and it was getting her right into trouble all over again.  Her da certainly wasn’t any help - he was so intent on letting her make her own choice that talking to him about it was just frustrating.  Maybe Shailla would know what to do. She’d certainly say it one way or the other, Sigrid could always count on that.  She would have to find her as soon as she got to Dale, or she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink.

 

 


	12. Lonely Mountain, Mended Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an explicit scene. Again, it's pretty clear to see it coming, and if you want to skip it to the rest of the plot, just search for the word "reverie."

Just as she had promised, Sigrid’s letter arrived two days after she had left the Mountain.  Fíli would be lying if he said he hadn’t feared a rejection hidden behind the wax seal.  There was a nagging dread that she’d just been being nice, that she hadn’t wanted to turn him down in front of everyone, or that she’d been too nervous or afraid to do it to his face.  Yet a letter came, recounting her ride back to Dale, and the unbelievable amount of weeds that had sprouted in her garden just over the few days she’d been gone.  

 

He’d written back immediately, of course.   Fíli had weeds of his own, he wrote; after the guests had gone, Thorin had finally listened to him about the problems the Orcs were causing on the Mountain and down along the river.  The king had put his nephews to work on a series of search-and-destroy missions on the face of the Mountain, trying to cut them off before they’d found anything to take.  It was long work though.  Fíli felt like every time he cut an Orc raider down, another three turned up the next evening.  It was hard to tell if they were making progress, but it was nice to be out in the open again, his brother at his side.  

 

Her reply came full of exhortations to be careful, not to split up.  He could read between the lines to clearly see what she could not say: not to recreate the outcome of the Battle, not to end this fragile relationship before it had the chance to fully heal.  But he had a job to do, so out he went, again and again.  Sometimes Tauriel would come as well, and with both her and Kíli firing away, Fíli barely had any melee work to do at all.

 

Sigrid had not been impressed.   _I wouldn’t say no to better proof of your well-being,_ she’d said.   _Anyone can write a letter._

 

So six weeks after Sigrid had left Erebor, Fíli headed down the Mountain to the city of Men.  The morning was cool, beads of dew hanging heavy off the tall grass that framed the road.  Here and there a shock of bright red or yellow stood out among the trees.  Autumn was sneaking up on them.  

 

By mid-afternoon, Fíli had reached the house.  He dismounted from his pony and knocked on the gate before letting himself and his pony in.  “Hello?” he called, then clucked gently at the pony to keep him moving forward.  At the kitchen window, eyes peeked around the curtain, then there was a scrambling at the door.  

 

Muffled voices argued until the door opened and he could hear Sigrid groan, “No, Shailla, don-- damn it!   _Come on!”_

 

A tall woman slid out the door and shut it behind her, cackling.   Fíli recognized her as the woman who had been helping Sigrid those months ago in the kitchen for the homeless.  She approached him as if she were going to eat him alive.  “So.”  She stood a good foot and a half taller than him, and looked down with an arched eyebrow.  

 

Fíli waited for the rest of her sentence but it never came.  Behind her, the door opened again and Sigrid caught up to her friend.

 

“Oh please,” she sighed.  “Fíli, may I introduce my friend Shailla, _who was just leaving._  Shailla, this is Fíli, Crown Prince Under the Mountain, Heir to Erebor, so on and so forth, et cetera et cetera.”

 

“Would you look at his wee mustache braids!  You never told me about those,” Shailla cooed, miming the same on her own face.  Wee?  They weren’t that small.  Fíli pulled a face and opened his mouth to defend himself, but Sigrid got there first.

 

“For pity’s sake, Shai, he’s a fucking prince, not a puppy,” Sigrid groaned.  “And we need to put the poor pony away.”  She took the reins from Fíli and led them all back to the stables.  “I trust your ride down was uneventful?” she asked as she started to undress the pony.

 

“Aye, it was fine,” Fíli answered, pulling his bags down.  He hazarded a look over to Sigrid’s friend, who was leaning against a post with a smile on her face, watching them work.  There was something underneath her smile, though, and he sensed he was being tested.  “Just fine.  What about your morning?”

 

Sigrid pulled the saddle off the pony and shrugged, so Shailla interjected, “We served breakfast at the kitchen, then came back up here to wait for you.  I’m rather glad I did.”

 

Fíli smiled back, pulling the blanket off and picking up a brush.  “I am as well.”

 

“Sig has told me so much about you, it’s a shame it’s taken us so long to meet,” she said, looking pointedly at her friend.  Fíli followed her gaze and found Sigrid glaring at her friend, cheeks pink.

 

_“Well,_ we’re all very busy, aren’t we?” she replied, helping Fíli brush down the pony.  

 

Completely ignoring Sigrid’s testy tone, Shailla continued, “Sig tells me you’ve been hunting Orcs on the Mountain.  Is that usual, for a prince?  Don’t you have people for that?”

 

“Leave it, Shai.”

 

Fíli shrugged.  “Dwarves aren’t really like that  We don’t have… people for anything.  Everyone has a job to do, even me.  Especially me.  Sitting around while others do the dirty work doesn’t really sit right with our kind.”

 

“What if they kill you?”

 

“Shailla _please.”_

 

“Then I die with honor, my brother becomes the Crown Prince, someone else is named Deputy Heir, and I feast with Mahal forever,” he answered with a shrug.  It was the wrong answer, apparently.

 

“Fat lot of good that does Sigrid.”

 

Sigrid threw down her brush and grabbed Shailla by the arm, dragging her just outside the door.  Fíli stayed put, brushing in steady strokes down the legs of his pony, but their voices carried right into the building.

 

“Shailla, I swear to the Valar I will never speak to you again if you keep this up,” she hissed.  “What are you trying to prove here, hm?”

 

“Someone has to look out for you,” Shailla argued.  “If you’re going to marry this Dwarf, which it sure sounds like you are, I need to know he’s putting you first.   _Especially_ after you come home from the Mountain a fucking mess.”

 

“I told you what he did for me--”

 

_“After_ you told me what he did _to you.”_

 

Fíli led the pony into an empty stall and found some feed for him.  Unfortunately that was all that reasonably needed to be done, and the women were still talking outside.  So he made as much noise as possible as he exited the building, hoping they would wrap it up before he’d have to admit he’d overheard them.  No such luck.

 

“And even if it hadn’t gone all tits-up, you can’t expect me to just let you leave, just like that, after everything that’s happened this year.  After spending our whole lives together!”  Shailla’s eyes darted to Fíli’s and he could see they glistened with unshed tears.  “It’s not like you’re marryin’ Edmure Manderly and letting him take you across the city, you’re marryin’ a _bloody prince_ and movin’ to a _Mountain.”_

 

Sigrid looked over her shoulder when she saw Shailla notice Fíli, and smiled weakly.  “Well, it’s probably a good thing I’m not marrying Edmure Manderly,” she joked.  “He still smells like fish all the time yet he hasn’t set foot in a boat since Lake Town.”  

 

“Shailla,”  Fíli started, uncertain what to say to make her believe him.  She stood with her arms folded over her chest, feet planted wide and fire in her eyes.  It wouldn’t do to cross her.  “My Lady, please trust me when I say the past few years have been full of change for me as well.”  At her arched eyebrow - her default expression, it seemed - he continued, “While yes, I have always been an heir to Erebor, it was more of a far-off dream than a real place.  I had no home until this year.”

 

He took a breath and looked to Sigrid.  “I knew I would be expected to take a wife eventually but never thought it would be anything but some duty to fulfil some time way down the line.  Yet here I am, completely taken with this daughter of Men.  I could never do anything to keep her from her loved ones.”  He laughed self-deprecatingly and added,  “Even if I wanted to.  It’s in the contract.”

 

“What?”

 

Sigrid nodded.  “I can show it to you if you like.”  

 

They went back up to the house, and Sigrid retrieved her copy of the contract that awaited their signatures.  They sat around the table as Shailla scanned the document, and when she was finished she placed it back in Sigrid’s hands.  “Well then.  I’m still going to need to come see where he’s putting you up.  It better be spectacular, not some dank hole cut into the rock.”

 

“There’s a, uh, a new suite they’re working on for us, this side of the Mountain, actually.”  

 

“What?  I didn’t know that,” Sigrid said, curious.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  We must have sent ten letters back and forth since I came back to Dale!”

 

Fíli smiled at Sigrid’s surprise.  “I wanted to tell you in person.  It’s up a couple stories from where you stayed, so you’ll have to climb a bit to get there, but the outside of the rock is shaped so they can put windows in.  You can see out but scouts won’t be able to spot you.”

 

“Oh,” she breathed.  “You must have started after I left.”

 

He nodded.  “I knew it would be a big change for you, if we married.  Men are used to seeing the sky all the time.  So I wanted to make it a little easier on you, and… Well, you can see the city from the window.  I’ll have to pick up the glass on the way home...”  He fell silent, embarrassed under the strangely charged attention the two women were giving him.

 

“So, you got a brother?” Shailla teased.

 

“Aye, but he’s taken as well, I’m afraid,” he laughed, grateful that she’d lightened the atmosphere a bit.

 

Sigrid just sat back in her chair, her face completely unreadable.  Shailla looked between the two of them and seemed to understand what Fíli could not.  She stood, rapping her knuckles on the table.  “Well that’s a shame,” she said as she pushed her chair back under the table.  “I’m expected at my gran’s tonight, so, I’d best be off.  I’ll see you in the morning to get your dress fitted, right, Sig?”

 

She smiled just a beat too late.  “Yes, of course.”  Then Sigrid stood and kissed Shailla’s cheek.  “See you in the morning.”

 

“It was nice to meet you, Prince Fíli.  I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

 

He nodded to her, grinning when she performed a half-curtsy, half-bow sort of movement, clearly mocking his station.  “Have a wonderful night, Shailla.”

 

Sigrid walked her friend out and closed the door behind her, heaving a sigh.  “I’ve known her since before I can remember, she’s my truest friend, but she can be a little much.  Thank you for being so kind.” She came back to the dining room and held her hands out to him as she added, “I’d like her to come stay with me when we’ve wed.  After we settle down of course.”

 

He took her hands and let her pull him up.  “‘When we’ve wed’?” he echoed, teasing.  “My lady, does this mean you’re going to marry me?”

 

“Aye,” she murmured lowly, stepping into his space.  She smelled like sugar and vanilla and a little bit of sweat, and he swallowed thickly as she lowered her mouth to his.  “I’m going to marry you,” she ghosted a kiss over his mouth,  “before you get so banged up I won’t recognize you.”  

 

“What do you mean?” he gulped.  While he was certainly eager to enjoy her affections, he was a bit surprised at them.  Things had been so fragile when she’d left, and their letters, though frequent, hardly built any intimacy back up to this kind of level.  He’d thought they were just getting friendly again.

 

“Just look at you,” she replied, running a thumb over a bruise on his collar, then a pink puckered scar on his forearm.  “Don’t you be getting yourself killed before I truly get to… get to know you.”  Sigrid kissed him again, hungrily this time, and Fíli fell back against the table.  She pressed up against him, her fingers twisted in the hair at the nape of his neck, lips moving against his so sweetly.

 

“Mm, Sig,” he sighed, pushing gently at her hips to break away for a moment.  “Not that I don’t enjoy this immensely, but,” he hesitated, trying to find the words.  “It seems a bit... sudden?  What changed?”

 

She huffed a laugh and bowed her head on his shoulder.  “I, uh… Well you know, there’s a lot of time to think on that road, and,” she pressed a kiss to his neck which felt _much_ too good, “then all your letters about fighting with the orcs, you’re really making a difference down here for Dale…” Another kiss, open-mouthed and hot against his skin.  “And even without being sure I’d come, you’re building me _windows…”_

 

Fíli turned his head to kiss her temple.  “Pssh, that’s nothing.”

 

“No, Fí, it’s everything.”  Her lips fluttered against his neck, then she pressed into him again, kissing him deeply.

 

“Sigrid, I--”  His breath was coming heavier now, the weight of her soft curves against him sending his blood pumping south.  He reached up to cup her face in his hands as he kissed her back, parting his lips to taste hers.  She sighed into his mouth, shifting a bit which only spurred on the throbbing between his legs.  “Mahal, Sigrid, we should-- I can’t--”

 

She slid a knee between his and applied the sweetest pressure, making him gasp into her shoulder.  Then she started kissing down his neck again, playing with the opening of his shirt and tunic, hooking her fingers in his belt.  “I can’t let you get yourself killed before I find out what you taste like.”  

 

“Wha--”  Mahal could take him right then and there, he decided, as she reached down and cupped him through his trousers.  A somewhat strangled moan rose out of him, muffled by the layers of clothes covering her shoulder.  “Gods, Sig, are you sure you--”  He hissed and bucked against her hand, gripping her hips tightly, fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt.  He swallowed thickly, trying to calm his heart.  “What if someone comes home?”  The last thing he needed was for Bard to walk through the door and see them like this, yet he couldn’t make himself wait to hear her answer.  She felt so good in his arms, smelled so sweet, he had to have more.  He ran his hands down and grabbed her ass, pulling her even closer so he could lower his mouth to her throat.

 

“We have plenty of time,” she gasped as he found the spot at the base of her neck and nipped gently at it.  Her one hand was still on his crotch but her other cupped the back of his head and held him in place.  

 

Every little sigh and moan he could pull out of her went straight to his cock, which was pushing so hard against the laces of his trousers it was starting to get painful.  He kissed and sucked and nipped and licked her throat, the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair filling his head.  He slid one hand up from her ass to cup her breast, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.  “Is this all right?”

 

“Mmm, yes, that’s more like it,” she sighed happily and started to unlace his trousers.  “Let me, _ahh,_ let me feel you.”

 

Fíli kissed her desperately, unable to keep his lips from hers for long at all.  He pulled at the belt which held her vest shut, and once that was free he loosed the buttons of her shirt.  “Tell me this is all right,” he gasped, running calloused fingers over the soft skin just under her collar.

 

_“Please,_ Fíli!” she whimpered, pulling her shirt open for him impatiently.  

 

He slipped a hand under the cotton and squeezed gently, kissing her as he pinched her nipple.  She smiled against his lips, breath hitching, so he did it again just a little harder.  

 

“Fuck, Fí,” she sighed, head rolling back. “Ahh, that’s so good.”  She crashed her lips back into his, licking into his mouth deeply as she pulled his trousers fully open and reached inside.  

 

When her hand wrapped around his cock, the most embarrassing moan came out of his mouth.   _“Oh!_  Fuck, that feels so-- so good,” he keened as she started to move up and down the length of him.  Every stroke of her hand brought stars behind his eyelids.  “Ah, I just want to feel you though,” he breathed. His hands scrambled under her shirt, pulling it open as he kissed down her neck and chest, bracing himself against the table as he lowered himself to her breast.  He swiped the flat of his tongue over her nipple and blew on it, watching it pucker and harden.

 

Her hands came up to grip his hair, tugging on his braids to hold him to her.  Mahal, there she goes again with the hair.  “Oh, you like that don’t you?” she asked with a smirk, pulling tighter, twisting his hair around her fingers.  

 

“Hnngh-- aye, I do,” he gulped, then bit down on her nipple, immediately swiping his tongue across to soothe it.  He grinned at her little gasp.  “But you like that, hm?”

 

Sigrid pulled him upright and kissed him soundly before taking his dick in her hands again.  She jacked him in short, hard strokes, then soft, smooth long ones.  He felt the familiar tightness in his abdomen grow, and a jolt from his chest all the way down to his balls when she squeezed them gently.  This was going to be over too soon if he didn’t do something about it.  So he turned quickly, flipping their positions so she was against the table instead.  He lifted her easily to sit on the table and slid his hands up her calves under her skirts.  “Please can I touch you,” he asked, each slip of his fingers going just a little higher.  

 

She spread her legs wide to let him move closer, and hitched her skirts up.  “Valar, Fíli, please! Stop asking and just do it!  I’m going mad,” she begged, grabbing his wrist to put his hand right where she wanted.

 

He chuckled and ran one finger up and down each side of her labia, finding them already slick.  “Well look who forgot her bloomers today,” he teased as she shifted forward on the table, trying to get him to hit the right spot.  “Were you waiting for me like this?  Thinking of me like this?”

 

“Mmmaybe,” she whimpered, gripping his bicep tightly.  “Stop teasing me!”

 

“Shush,” he laughed, rolling a thumb over her clit gently, then again and again, increasing the pressure each time until she was gasping for breath, moving with him, stifling the little noises she made in his shoulder.  With his free hand he braced himself on the table, holding her one leg up to give himself better access.  He kissed her again, quieting her with his mouth as he slipped one finger, then two inside her.  

 

She mewled into his mouth and used the leg hooked over his arm to shift even closer to him.  “Fíli please,” Sigrid moaned, one hand reaching down to show him what she needed.  She was so warm, sopping wet, and when he flicked her clit again with his thumb she spasmed around his fingers.

 

“Yes, right there,” she sobbed, moving against his hand.  She threw an arm around his neck, keeping him close to her as he crooked his fingers inside her, finding the soft spot that made her cry out.  “Aah, _oh!_  Fíli don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

 

“I won’t, come on sweetheart, that’s it, let me take care of you,” he promised, grinding the heel of his hand against her clit as his fingers moved in and out.  “You’re so wet for me, pretty Sigrid,” he whispered in her ear.  He could feel her really start to clench down, her whole body tensing up underneath him.  “Oh, you’re so close, aren’t you?  Are you going to come for me, right here on this table?  Are you going to come on my hand?  I can barely move my fingers you’re so tight, Sig--”

 

Sigrid pushed her face into his shoulder to smother her scream as she came hard around his hand.  He felt her clench down on his fingers over and over as she rode out her orgasm.  When her breath came back to her he lowered her leg as gently as he could.  “Holy… oh my… Fuck!”  she laughed, giddy, her eyes shining with delight.

 

Fíli grinned back at her, sucking the taste of her from his fingers.  It was tart, and a little bitter, and wonderful.  “Mm, you like that?”

 

“I do,” she answered, hopping down from the table and smoothing her skirts back down.  “And by the look of it you did too.”

 

Now that he wasn’t focused on her he realized he was rock hard, a bead of precome rolling down the shaft.  He reached down and stroked gently once or twice, smoothing the liquid around.  “I did indeed.”

 

“It’s your turn now,” she announced, sinking to her knees.  Oh fuck, was she really--?  She licked a thick wet stripe on the underside of his cock, from the base all the way to the tip.  Her tongue circled the end of him, licking up that precome, then she wrapped her hand around him again and took him into her mouth.  

 

Fíli gripped the edge of the table and tried to be quiet but her mouth was so wet and hot and it took every ounce of self control not to buck his hips.  “Oh, Sig, that’s-- Aah!, that’s so good.”  

 

She hummed delightedly and started to move, pumping the base of his cock with her hand and moving her mouth up and down.  He felt her swallow around him, and he whimpered, which only served to spur her on.  Her hand moved faster now, twisting on the upstroke, driving him mad, and he felt his balls tighten, the twisting pressure low in his abdomen building again.  “Sig, I’m-- shit, I’m so close.”  Touching her and feeling her come had gotten him more worked up than he’d realized,  because this was taking no time at all.

 

It didn’t help that she absolutely would not let up.  One hand held his hip to help still him, but the other cupped his balls, squeezing gently, running the thumb around, pulling at them as her perfect mouth moved, tongue flicking around, adding that much more sensation to his already overwhelming pleasure.  She looked up at him and took him all the way into her mouth until he could feel himself pressing at the back of her throat.  She swallowed again, backed off and pumped his cock steadily, rolling her tongue around the tip.  

 

“Please, Sigrid, I--” he wanted to give her the chance to pull away but when she took him back in her mouth completely, that was it.  He gripped the edge of the table tightly as he came into her mouth, hips spasming. “Auh-- _Ahh!_  Fuck!”  He was so loud, surely someone would have heard him.  But when she pulled off of him with a smack, she was grinning from ear to ear.  It was all Fíli could to do lean against the table and let her tuck him back inside his trousers.  “Sigrid, you know, you didn’t have to let me...  I mean I would have… I tried to--”

 

She just laughed, wiping at the corner of her mouth, and rose to her feet.  When she kissed him, he could taste his come and that just sent another blossom of heat through him.  “But I wanted to,” she stated simply.  “And it’s cleaner that way, anyway.”  She started fixing her buttons back up and nodded to him.  “Well aren’t you a wreck.  You look like you’ve just had quite the roll in the hay.”

 

“You’d know all about that, hm?”  He teased back as he tied his laces back up and pulled his shirt back together.  “You certainly seemed to know what you were doing.”

 

“Aye?  And what of it?” she challenged with an arched eyebrow - again with the eyebrows! - folding her arms over her chest.  “You’re no virgin either, or I’ll eat my boot.”

 

“No, I’m not,” he replied.  “I don’t care, Sig, if that’s what you mean.  Later we can trade tales, for all it’s worth to me.”  He moved behind her and began to fix her hair, replacing a pin that had fallen loose.  “I know Men put quite a bit of stock in such things, and with Dwarves it matters if a child results, you know, for inheritance reasons, otherwise nobody cares. Anyway, that still leaves quite a few options to enjoy.”  He pressed a kiss to her neck, then squeezed her sides playfully.

 

Sigrid squealed in delight, jumping and twisting out of his reach, scolding,  “Ooh, you’re awful.”  But the pretty smile on her face told a different story, and she came right back to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him again.  He rested his head on her shoulder and they stood there like that for a few long moments, just breathing each other in.

 

Rolling the past months’ events around in his mind, Fíli could hardly believe everything that had happened.  A proposal accepted, rejected, and accepted again, hearts broken and - apparently - mended.  Three short months to prepare himself and his kingdom for a wedding.  For all a Dwarf’s life was supposed to proceed more slowly than a Man’s, the past few months, even years had been a crazy blur.  

 

“Fí?”  Sigrid’s quiet question shook him out of his reverie.  “What are you thinking about?”

 

Too much to name.  “I’m thinking we should get out of here for a little while, what do you think?  Let’s take a walk.”  He held out his hand to her and she took it, letting him lead her out of the house and out of the city.  They walked up into the forest on the foot of the Mountain, though “forest” was perhaps too generous a term.  The rocky soil kept all but the hardiest, scraggliest trees from growing, so there was not much cover at all.

 

The sun was warm but the breeze was cool;  the weather was turning.  They would probably need to move Sigrid and all her things immediately after the wedding, or risk being caught in an early storm.  Fíli sighed.  The wedding.  “So is that where your father is?  Making preparations for the wedding, I mean.”

 

Sigrid’s confused frown turned into a deeper, sadder one.  “Well, no.  Not right now, anyway.”  She paused, then added in a small voice,  “The orcs have been coming down into Dale’s lands with more and more frequency.  Seems every other day someone’s sheep is taken, or half a field is trampled.  Sometimes people will even go missing.  When you and Kíli started striking back it cooled off for a little bit, but they’re just coming around a different way now.  So,” she sighed, hitching up her skirts to climb up a small rise in the ground, “he took Bain out this morning to scout.  Try and find where they’ve been camping out, you know.  I told him that that’s what you and Kíli have been doing, but he said you’ve-- Anyway, he wanted to take a look himself.  Or something.”

 

Fíli had caught her little stumble, sure Bard had been complaining about him and his efforts.  He couldn’t really blame the Man.  He’d had no idea the Orcs were still affecting the city so much.  The entrances to Erebor were either well hidden or well fortified, but Dale was evidently still floundering with hardly a trained Man left among them.  

  
“It’s actually a big part of why I gave King Thorin a second chance at the contract,” she admitted, voice barely rising above the sound of the wind through the trees and the chattering birds.  “We can’t do this ourselves, and I know it, and Da knows it…  The Dwarves have always been our best shot, we just didn’t want to get bled dry in the effort.”  

 

“Sigrid…”

 

“So I figured,” she continued, “even if our relationship never healed, I could live with it, with you, if I could make the whole ordeal worth something for my people.  Gain Dwarven defense of Dale.”  

 

Oh, had Thorin underestimated her.  Fíli was absolutely gobsmacked, and stopped walking just to stand there and look at her.  The whole time his uncle had been scheming, she had too, and she’d out maneuvered the King Under the Mountain.  Oh, Thorin would be furious.  But then… “Sigrid, why are you telling me this?  Nothing’s final yet, nothing’s signed.  You’re handing me all of your leverage.”  Fíli hesitated for a moment; she’d played Thorin so perfectly - was she playing him as well?  “And what am I supposed to make of… what happened, in the kitchen… in light of all this you’re saying?  I meant it when I told you before that I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t really want--”

 

“Oh, the insensitivity of sensitive men!  Or Dwarves, whatever,” Sigrid grumbled, stopping short.  “Suffering so much they suffer nothing for others.”  She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest, eyes the stormiest grey he’d ever seen them.  “Damn you, Fíli, you are not the only one around here with feelings!  I am terrified, all right?  There, you got me to say it.  I’m absolutely fucking terrified of winter, of hunger, of the _damn Orcs._  And I can’t tell anyone, not even Shai, because she just doesn’t get it.  But I can’t get over it.  Ever since they followed you to my house in Lake Town I’ve never stopped being terrified.”

 

She paused just a moment, then continued quietly, “Seems every night I dream of them.  Either they attack my house and I have to hide under the fucking kitchen table again, or it’s the Battle and I’m running through the streets of a city I don’t know, trying to keep a hold of my sister, or it’s some other thing that hasn’t happened yet, like I’m in Erebor as happy as you please until they start streaming down the halls and stairs and bridges…”  

 

Sigrid trailed off, angrily swiping under her eyes.  “And I can’t get away from them in daylight either.  My neighbor’s cow becomes some smear on the paving stones, a woman’s son goes missing, and my Da and my brother go off looking for trouble, as if the two of them could save the day.  Then you’re miles away sending me ravens to tell me you’re going after them with only your brother as back up?  I could lose you all in a day!  I could…  I could lose you.”  She fell quiet, sniffing, then found one last bit of fire in her to admonish him.  “So for-fucking-give me if I try to use what little power I have available to me to try and keep that from happening, and don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t try to grab a little distraction in the meantime.  I sure as shit didn’t hear you complaining an hour ago.”

 

The wind blew Fíli’s hair in front of his face, and as he pushed it out of the way behind his ears, he could find nothing to say in reply.  She stood in front of him, arms still crossed, feet planted wide.  Her skirts whipped around her legs, baby hairs pulled loose from the twists she’d put in around the crown of her head.  She was so beautiful, so strong, and he just kept failing her.  “Sig, I didn’t…”  He reached out to her and she turned slightly away.

 

“I just thought you deserved honesty, Fíli, and I thought you of all people would understand what I was going through.  I trust you won’t abuse it.”  

 

“No, never!  I--”  He cut himself off as some pebbles tumbled down the hill ahead of them.  Holding up his left hand for quiet, he drew his sword with his right.  Sigrid’s eyes were huge so he tried to smile reassuringly, though it probably looked more like a grimace.  He stalked up the hill as quietly as he could, hoping to find they’d just been startled by some rabbit or something.  There was a fairly large rock protruding out of the ground, and as he stepped around it gingerly Fíli heard a scream.  He tried to see what had surprised Sigrid, but the moment he took his eyes away from the rock an orc jumped up and charged.

 

Fíli stumbled back, barely raising his sword in time to block the orc’s attack.  It had pale, greenish skin and a tangled mop of black hair piled on top of its head, white mud streaked across its face, and luckily for Fíli, hardly any armor.  It pulled its long, straight sword back to prepare for another swing, and the Dwarf staggered away, trying to buy himself enough time to draw his second sword.  

 

Another scream rose from down the hill, yanking his attention away from Fíli’s opponent.  A second, taller orc had circled around them to attack from behind.  Sigrid was backing away but hit a tree and froze with fear.  “I’m coming Sigrid,” he called, then charged back at the orc.  It had the higher ground and longer reach, so Fíli was having difficulty landing any blows as he swung over and over.  The orc just danced around him, hopping from rock to rock and blocking each attack.  “Come on and fight me!” Fíli growled impatiently.  “Stop fucking around!”

 

“Fíli!”  Sigrid screeched, and when Fíli dared to glance behind him he saw that the other orc had grabbed her and was trying to drag her off up and around the side of the Mountain.  When he turned back, the first orc was upon him, thrusting its sword right at Fíli’s chest.  He barely caught the blade with his own, pushing it just off target enough that it cut sharply against his side and threw the orc off balance.  Crying out with pain and effort, Fíli put a shoulder in its chest and threw it to the ground, then ran it through with both swords.  Unable to wait for its last breaths, he took one more swipe across its throat before he chased after the others.  “Sigrid!”

 

She was kicking, screaming and sobbing as she clawed at the orc’s face.  “Fíli, help me!”

 

“Put her down!” he growled, closing the distance rapidly, but before he could get near enough to attack the orc turned and pulled Sigrid between them.  

 

It held her by the neck, using just enough pressure that she had to stand as tall as she could, chin up.  “Ah ah ahh,” it warned, drawing a black fingernail across the pale flesh of her throat.  “Drop the weapons.”

 

Tears rolled down Sigrid’s cheeks, her lips pressed together tightly as she tried not to cry aloud.  Her hands were balled into fists and Fíli could see her shaking from yards away.

 

“It’s going to be all right, Sig, don’t worry,” Fíli said steadily.  Maintaining eye contact with the orc, he knelt and lay both swords on the ground.  Of course, he still had throwing axes in his boots and three daggers and a short sword in his coat, but he had to get the orc to let her go first; he didn’t have a clear shot and any attempt he made would need to be perfect lest the orc break Sigrid’s neck before Fíli got to them.  

 

Sigrid squirmed around, making one more effort to escape, which took the orc’s attention long enough that as Fíli rose back to his feet he slipped the small axe up his sleeve unseen.  “What do you want?” she asked, still trembling.

 

Fíli’s gaze bounced from the orc’s arm across Sigrid’s throat, to its other hand on her shoulder, to its grinning face above her head, to her tear-streaked one.  How was he going to play this?  “Aye, kidnapping is hardly a typical orcish past-time.”  

 

The orc laughed.  “Well, we gotta eat something,” it hissed, sniffing her hair.  

 

Sigrid squeezed her eyes closed with a shuddering breath, but when it withdrew she opened them and fixed Fíli with a strange look.  Still crying silently, she flicked her eyes to the hand that held his throwing axe, then back to his face.  Did she really want him to take the shot?

 

He shook his head quickly, just a bit.  He couldn’t do that, the orc was too well hidden behind her.  Sure he was decent at throwing the axes, or he wouldn’t carry them, but Kíli had always been the sharp shooter.  “Come, orc, release the lady.  Surely a sheep or cow would be more to your taste.”

 

“But I’ve got a girl right here, and see no sheeps or cows,” it argued, taking a step backwards and dragging Sigrid with him.

 

When she got her feet back under her she jerked her chin down in the tiniest nod, then looked down at her hand that hung down at her side.  Fíve fingers outstretched, then she curled her thumb in.  Four.  He looked to her face, found it determined, and another finger rolled in towards her palm.  Three.  He could see her shaking.

 

Fíli tensed his arm, flexing his fingers enough to make sure he was ready for whatever she was planning.  “Aye, but there’s hardly any meat on her.  One of my main complaints, to be honest.”  

 

Sigrid gave him an exasperated look, and then there were two fingers outstretched. “S-s-seriously?”

 

He just shrugged.  “I’m just saying this plan doesn’t make very much sense.  Sure, fresh meat tastes better, but she hasn’t even got very much on her and dragging her over the Mountain alive and conscious certainly must be more trouble than that’s worth.”

 

“Fíli!” she groaned, fighting halfheartedly against her captor, but only her pinky finger remained as she slowly took a deep breath.

 

“Don’t worry, lass, the orc daren’t think of pulling that dagger on you now.”  He shot her a smile, waiting for her signal.

 

It happened all at once.  She clenched her fist, exhaled all the air in her lungs in one great whoosh, and collapsed to the ground, slipping right out from under the orc’s arm and landing elbow-first on the orc’s instep.

 

As he watched her hand close, Fíli let the axe slide out of his sleeve and into his hand.  The moment Sigrid slid past its arm, he sent the axe flying into the Orc’s face as it howled from the injury to his foot.  The force of the blow sent the orc reeling backwards, and Sigrid dug in her boot for the knife Fíli had given her.  She slashed out wildly, catching the Orc across the legs as it scrambled to find higher ground.

 

Fíli dug in his coat and pulled two long daggers out, chasing in long strides after the Orc which was holding onto life with adrenaline alone.  It screeched as he caught up to it, hands scrabbling to defend itself.  Fíli knelt down with one knee on its chest and one knee on an arm.  He crossed his daggers across its throat, pausing only a moment before drawing them roughly out and away, taking the Orc’s life with them.  Blood splattered across his coat and he grimaced, grabbing a handful of grass and wiping angrily at the mess as he rose to his feet.  

 

Sigrid lay on the ground some twenty feet away, curled up into a tiny ball and sobbing.  She was staring at the knife, which was sitting in the grass next to her, blood shining bright against the steel.  Fíli rushed over, falling to his knees beside her.  “Sssh, Sigrid, it’s over, I promise, it’s over.”  He stroked her hair gently, kissed her forehead, and rolled his legs out from under himself so he could pull her into his lap.  He wrapped his arms around her as she curled into his chest, clutching onto his coat tightly.  “Sssh, hush now, my love, you’re safe now.”

 

Now she wailed, crying so hard she could no longer control her breath.  She heaved and gasped, but was unable to pull in any air.  “Hey, hey hey hey,” he cooed, pulling her upright.  “Sit up straight, my pretty Sigrid, you need to breathe.  Come on, my sweet, in and out.”  He turned her around so her back was to his chest, both of them sitting on the ground now, with his knees on either side of her.  Rubbing up and down her arms gently, he took huge, deep breaths to try to get her to breathe with him.  “There we go, there we go…”    

 

Slowly she calmed, and Fíli just sat there quietly with her, humming lowly into her ear until she finally relaxed against him.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.  “I shouldn’t have brought you out here.  I had no idea you were so… That it pained you so much.”  He rested his cheek on the top of her head.  “Nor that an Orc would attack us in broad daylight like that.”

 

Eventually Sigrid huffed a little laugh.  “I suppose I really ought to learn to use that dagger, hm?”

 

He clucked his tongue.  “I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened.  I should have been paying better attention.  They shouldn’t have gotten the jump on me like that.  But if you like, when you come back to Erebor we’ll get you trained up on some weaponry.”

 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Sigrid agreed, snuggling deeper into his arms.  “I can’t always have you around to protect me, my love.”

 

Fíli gaped, craning his neck around to try to see her face.  “What did you call me?”  
  


“You started it,” she deflected, eyes immediately shifting down and away.

 

“Please don’t… Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he begged quietly, pulling back from her.

 

“Oh Fí,” Sigrid sighed tiredly, turning to kneel in front of him.  She smiled and reached up to play with his courting braid, then brushed a kiss over his lips.  “That’s always been the trouble.  I absolutely do mean it.  I love you, I’ve loved you since you helped me chop vegetables in the shelter, and no matter how badly I wanted to, I never stopped.”  

 

She kissed him again, and Fíli reached up to hold her face gently.  When they broke apart he brushed his nose against hers, sure he was grinning like the cat that got the cream.  “Would it be romantic or horrifying if I told you I fell in love with you when I saw you help saw a Dwarf’s leg off?”

 

Sigrid rolled her eyes.  “Wow.  Who knew the way to a Dwarf’s heart was through amputation?”  Her voice was weak, an aftereffect of the adrenaline rush from the Orc’s attack and the sobbing when it was finished.

 

“Precious few indeed,” he answered with a wink.  Then he stood up and offered her a hand.  “Let’s get you back home, hm? I think that’s enough excitement for one day.”

  
  



	13. My Heart Like a Kick-Drum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief mention of intentional injury in this chapter, but it isn't drawn out and it isn't sad so I didn't want to tag self-harm on the fic as a whole, since that's not accurate. However I did want to let you know ahead of time, my dears, just in case.
> 
> Additionally, there is an explicit scene in this chapter, which begins right around "So shall we?" and basically goes to the end of the chapter.

 

 

“Sigrid!   _Sigrid!”_ A voice sang from the other side of her bedroom door.  “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

 

“Valar, who let you in the house this bleeding early, Shailla?” Sigrid groaned, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

 

A second voice giggled, then answered, “I did!”

 

Tilda.  Of course.  “Well.  Thank you very much,” she grumbled bitterly.

 

“Don’t give us that sass,” Shailla warned.  “We let you sleep as long as we could but it’s nigh past ten in the morning now.  You gotta get going, honey bee.  There’s work to do! Or are we not havin' a wedding today after all?”

 

Sigrid pulled herself out of bed and shuffled over to the door, pulling it open just far enough to see two pairs of eyes waiting eagerly for her.  “Like what, exactly?  No one has let me do anything all week.  It’s all _‘You just take it easy now,’_ or, _‘Don’t you worry, we’ll take care of it.’_  I haven’t seen Fíli at all even though I know he came down to Dale yesterday with Kíli and Tauriel.  It’s--” she sagged against the door frame, pausing as her stomach interrupted her with a loud growl.  “Did you at least bring food?”

 

“Of course I did.”  Shailla put a shoulder to the door and shoved her way into the room, then set a plate of food down on the bed.  “You look a right mess,” she clucked, gesturing wildly at Sigrid’s hair, her face, her everything.  “We’ll get you cleaned up and Tilda will track Prince Fíli down.”

 

Tilda gasped as dramatically as her little lungs could make it.  “Abso _-lutely_ not!  That is against the rules.”  At her sister’s blank stare she continued earnestly, “It’s bad luck!  Everyone knows that.”

 

“Til, i’ve had so much bad luck in the past year and a half that I doubt there’s any left in the whole wide world,” Sigrid replied tiredly.  

 

But the younger girl just crossed her arms over her chest.  “Well if there is it will _find you,_ and it will _not_ be my fault..”

 

“All right, we understand,” Shailla placated.  “How’s about Sigrid has her bath, and Tilda can protect us from the Spectre of Misfortune hovering over us all?”  She shooed the two sisters out of the bedroom.  “Chop chop, let’s get going!  We have a wedding to get to!”

 

Tilda ran off to take up her role of Defender Of The Princess’ Luck and Honor, while Shailla and Sigrid hauled the tub out and put some water on to boil.  “How are you feeling?” Shailla asked quietly, pulling out soaps and hair oils from a bag she had brought.  “You don’t exactly seem excited.  Is something worrying you?”

 

“It’s just… Everything is happening really fast, you know?” Sigrid shoved a piece of toast into her mouth. “Wha’ am I even doing, Shai?”

 

“You’re taking a bath,” she answered curtly.  “And you’re getting into the finest dress any Lake Town girl has ever worn, and you’re marrying that prince, and I won’t have you complaining about it because one: Dale needs you to do this, and two: you’d want to anyway.  I saw the way you looked at him the other day at the house.”  Shailla smirked.  “You can’t fool me.  You want to climb that like a tree.”

 

“Shailla!” Sigrid threw the comb at her friend, completely distracted from her melancholy by her friend’s crass outburst.

 

“No, no, I get it,” Shailla continued, catching the comb easily and setting it on the table that held the soaps and towels.  “Golden hair, dimples, musical and courtly?  What’s not to love?  That stout, barrel-chest… I wonder if the rest of ‘im’s built that way too, if you catch my meaning.”

 

Sigrid quirked her eyebrow in an effort to distract from her quickly warming face, but it didn’t work.  Shailla’s eyes widened and she grinned, clucking her tongue.  “Tsk, tsk, tsk.  You telling me Saintly Sigrid The Bargeman’s Daughter couldn’t wait til after the wedding to get her hands on her betrothed?”

 

“Oh shut it,” she answered as she shooed Shailla out of the room.

 

Undeterred, Shaila planted her feet in front of the door.  “Well?  How is he?  On a scale of Alfrid to My Wildest Dreams, where does our Fair Prince lie?”

 

“Shailla, I need to get clean.  Now am I going to have to strip in front of you or will you leave me be?”

 

She just crossed her arms over her chest, expectant look on her face.  

 

“All right, all right.”  Sigrid leaned against the wall, defeated.  “Fírst of all, get your facts straight.  We didn’t do… _everything,_ you know? I hardly wanted my first time to be on the bloody kitchen table--”

 

“Kitchen t-- Seriously, Sig, you couldn’t go upstairs to a damned bed?”

 

“Sssh!  No, he… I… You know what, forget it,” she huffed, shoving good-naturedly at her friend’s shoulder.  “It made sense at the time.  He was just really… kind?  Kept asking if I was all right, if he could do this or that.  It was nice.”  Sigrid smiled at the memory.  

 

“And…?”

 

“And, erm, yes…?”

 

“Yes what?”  Shailla grinned, clearly understanding the answer.

 

“Yes he’s going to keep me very happy, and you'll leave it at that.”  Sigrid grabbed a piece of smoked fish, fitting the whole thing in her mouth to keep herself from talking any longer.

 

Shailla just cackled.  “Well, make sure you remember to pee when you’re done doing the do.”  At Sigrid’s puzzled face she laughed again.  “Just trust me!  It’ll save you a world of hurt.  And to repay me for this golden nugget of wisdom, if another brother turns up out of nowhere you make sure i’m the first to know.”  She let herself out of the room, adding quietly as she closed the door, “I’ll be back in a little while.  I’m going to find out what I need to do with your hair.”

 

In no time Sigrid was stripped and sitting in the warm water, pulling a comb through her hair and thinking about what her friend had said before she left.   _Dale needs you to do this._ The attack she and Fíli had suffered had certainly hammered that point home.  Both kingdoms of Dale and Erebor would need to make a united, strong showing against the orc armies, find where they were based, and deal a blow so devastating they’d stop sending these little stinger groups out after the weak ones… Why was she thinking war strategy on her wedding day?  Was this wedding actually going to help anything?  Or was it a distraction?  Would this problem have been solved already if the two kingdoms hadn’t had this matter to sort out as well?

 

Eventually Shailla returned, ready with a battle plan for Sigrid’s wedding hair.  Still stuck in her own head, Sigrid was grateful that her friend filled the silence with aimless gossip.  It almost felt like one of the sleepovers they’d had as children.  Who was seen with whom, what kind of person would ever court so-and-so, who was _definitely pregnant I mean did you see her?_  Fínally she handed Sigrid a hand mirror and turned her opposite the one on the vanity, so she could see the whole job.

 

Her courting braid was rewoven, bead in place above the ear and another, similar, at the bottom.  It was tucked into the larger braid that fell down over her shoulder, so that both pieces of jewelry were visible.  On the other side of her head went another four-stranded braid, just like her courting braid, except this one had no jewelry attached.  Apparently Dwarves added the jewelry once they had consummated.  Sigrid had made a face at the overly formal term and Shailla spent the next thirty seconds in uncontrollable laughter. Pieces of hair were pulled back from her face, twisted and woven into the braid, pinned with ceremonial pieces scavenged from the treasure hall Under the Mountain and things from Sigrid’s own jewelry box as well.  At the nape of her neck the braid continued, looser, with tiny ropes of hair weaving in and out.  Her own hair tied around the end served to fasten it, and Sigrid played with it silently.

 

She could hear her sister coming up the steps and in the last quiet moments before the door burst open again, Sigrid allowed herself to feel that little bit of excitement underneath the nervousness and loss of control she’d been feeling over the past months.  This was her wedding dress.  She was getting married.  This afternoon!

 

Tilda knocked but didn’t wait for the answer before entering the room, demanding to be allowed to help.  “All anyone’s told me all day is that I should just be quiet and stay out of the way.  But I’m big enough.  I can help!”

 

“All right, well, let’s get me dressed.”

 

Sigrid walked over to her bed, where Shailla had laid out the gown.  It was really beautiful.  The body of it was a soft green, long sleeves ending in a bell lined with cream.  There were golden, floral accents in the trim around the sleeves and neckline, and a false belt circled below the waist.  Tiny beads were sewn in five lines from the trim at the neck, narrowing at the waist until they met in a V above the belt.  She slipped it over her head, then let Shailla and Tilda pull and tug and fluff and cinch her into the dress.  Once everything was in place, Tilda squealed.  “You’re so beautiful!”

 

“You really are, Sig,” Shailla agreed somewhat more quietly.  “I can’t wait to see Fíli’s face when he sees you.”

 

“Neither can I!” Tilda giggled.  

 

“So we should probably go then.”  Yet Sigrid didn’t move.  She was looking at herself again in the mirror of the vanity.  There was a queen staring back at her; how odd.  She’d be lying if she said she’d never imagined her wedding day, but in her dreams it had always been simple.  A clean dress, a flower in her hair, a promise.  Instead she was wearing about three pounds of jewelry in her hair, a dress paid for by an entire town, and was about to take part in a ceremony which itself took hours of debate and compromise, in front of possibly hundreds of people.  Sigrid felt more like one of the players that performed in the streets of Dale, all in costume, reciting lines someone else had written.  

 

A tug on her hand brought Sigrid out of her thoughts.  “Come on, Sig,” Tilda said, beaming up at her.  “It’s time to go!”

 

~*~

 

They held the wedding in the grassy plain by the river which linked Dale and Erebor.  Sigrid blanched as she saw the crowd that had gathered: Men from Dale, Gondor, Rohan; Dwarves from Erebor, the Blue Mountain, the Iron Hills; Elves from Mirkwood, Rivendell.   The crowd gathered in a large circle around a small raised platform, and one long aisle ran through the middle, with one end pointed towards Erebor and the other towards Dale.  It was beautiful in a formal sort of way, proper and elegant and entirely overwhelming to Sigrid.

 

“What are all these people doing here?” she whispered harshly at Shailla.  “We barely gave anyone a month’s notice, how are there so many people here!  Valar, is that Caryl?  Why is Edmure here isn’t that weird?”  But Shailla just calmly led her friend over to where Bard and Bain stood waiting for her.  They were both dressed smartly as well, new jackets ironed crisp and hair combed back.  Even they were ready for the performance, she thought somewhat bitterly.

 

“Da, what is everyone _doing_ here?” she practically begged.  This whole thing was turning into a spectacle and Sigrid felt the last shreds of control slipping through her fingers.

 

Bard chuckled.  “This was hardly how I imagined your wedding day either.  But they’re here to celebrate with you, lamb.”  He took her chin lightly in his hand, then kissed her forehead.  “You look beautiful.”

 

Bain grinned at her as well.  “This is incredible, Sig.”

 

Shailla squeezed her tightly around the middle.  “I’m so happy for you!  Now I’m going to go find the rest of us Lake Town girls, all right?  Love you!”

 

“Love you,” Sigrid called weakly after her.  

 

Tilda gasped.  “Oh, Sigrid!  Look!”

 

Fíli and his family were approaching the other end of the aisle.  They were all dressed in ceremoniously shiny armor patterned with the rays Sigrid had come to associate with the Durins.  There was a fourth Dwarf with them whom Sigrid did not recognize, but when they turned to face the brothers, it became clear:  this was their mother, Dís.  She had dark hair like Thorin and Kíli, but the light eyes, dimples and mustache braids reminded her of Fíli.  Dís turned back toward Sigrid and smiled, nodding once.

 

Fíli would have stood out even if he weren’t the Dwarf she was about to marry.  Dark leather-and-mail pauldrons hung over Fíli’s shoulders from his jerkin, which was really quite form-fitting, she was pleased to notice.  All the accents and trim were done in gold, including the buttons.  His hair was curling a little, fluttering in the breeze, catching the light just as well as the jewelry in his braids, and he wore a golden circlet around his forehead.  He was stunning, laughing at something Kíli had said out of the corner of his mouth.  As his laugh quieted, his gaze fell to her.  A smile broke across his face and his eyes glistened.  What she wouldn’t pay for a painting of that moment, so she could keep it forever.

 

Sigrid felt her own eyes tear up as she grinned right back, and she took a step towards him but Bain’s hand on her elbow held her back.  “Just a moment, Sig,” he murmured quietly.  “We have to wait for--”  He interrupted himself as the crowd’s chattering grew rather loud.  “For King Thranduil,” he finished lamely.

 

The king of Mirkwood had somehow just… appeared in the center of the platform, arms outstretched towards each end of the aisle.  “Come.”  Thranduil’s voice was not raised, though it traveled curiously well even out to the ends of the crowd where Sigrid and her family stood.  

 

She looked between her Da and her brother, then down to Tilda, who was beaming back up at her.  “All right,” she breathed, taking her Da’s arm tighty in hers, gripping her brother’s hand in her other.  

 

Bard pressed a kiss to her cheek, then hovered to murmur in her ear, “I have to ask one last time.  Is this what you want, little dove?”

 

Sigrid nodded fiercely, blinking back tears at the old endearment.

 

“Then I am so, so happy for you,” he finished, kissing her temple one last time before turning back to the aisle.  They walked down towards Thranduil together in one wide line, and though Fíli and his brother and uncle approached at the same time, Sigrid had to giggle when she noticed Thranduil’s eye lingering on her Da.  Perhaps with this circus of a wedding all wrapped up, her Da could finally go after some love for himself.

 

When both of the parties had reached the platform, Thranduil turned to Sigrid.  “Who comes before the Valar this day?”

 

Sigrid swallowed thickly, pulling up her skirts just a bit to step onto the platform.  The softness and the weight grounded her; she dropped them, smoothed them to buy herself a second as she recalled the lines she was to recite.  “Lady Sigrid, daughter of Bard the King of Dale, comes here to be wed,” she answered, voice only wavering a bit at the beginning, despite the way her knees shook under her skirts.  Fíli was watching her, adoration blatant on his face.

 

“Who comes to meet her?”  Thranduil continued, turning to Fíli, who started just a bit, jerking forward as if he’d been pushed.

 

His quick glance backward and Kíli’s smirk confirmed that he had, but Fíli cleared his throat and answered somberly as he stepped up onto the platform, “Fíli, son of Dís, of the Line of Durin, Heir of King Thorin and the throne of Erebor.  Who brings her?”

 

“Her family.”  Bard’s voice rang clearly over the sound of the breeze and the movement of people.  “Her father, Bard, King of Dale--”

 

“Her brother Bain, son of Bard, heir to the throne of Dale--”

 

“And her sister, Lady Tilda, daughter of Bard,” Tilda cried triumphantly, obviously pleased at herself for participating so flawlessly.

 

“Who brings this Dwarf?”  Bard finished.

 

“His brother Kíli, son of Dís, of the Line of Durin,” answered the younger Dwarf, who had turned quite serious as the ceremony had gotten underway.

 

“His mother Dís, daughter of Thrain, of the Line of Durin,” she added.

 

“And his Uncle Thorin, son of Thrain, of the Line of Durin, King Under the Mountain.”  The Dwarf King’s voice rumbled in Sigrid’s chest, making her shiver.  

 

“Lady Sigrid, will you take this Dwarf?”  Thranduil asked, and she could have sworn there was a note of tenderness there.

 

“I will,” she replied.  It was a bit easier to speak up this time; with everyone else playing their parts, she could take a step back and appreciate the steps of the ceremony for what they were.  She couldn’t look away from Fíli anyway, he was looking at her like she was the only person on the plains.

 

“And Prince Fíli, will you take this woman?”

 

“I- I will.”  His voice had broken just a bit, eyes shining as he said the words.  He really did love her.  Of course, he’d shown it countless times, but the full force of it hit Sigrid smack in the chest. She was completely caught up in the feeling, unable to keep his gaze under the sheer weight of it.  

 

As Thranduil reached out to take both of their hands, a new weight settled on her.  The Dwarvish half of the ceremony.  As keen as she’d been on Equal Representation and so on, she was absolutely not looking forward to this.  The King brought their hands together with one hand, and with the other he procured a small dagger from his robes.  

 

The knife sliding across her wrist hardly registered.  It was only as bright red blood pooled up in a thick line, and Thranduil pressed the two wounds together, that a sharp ache started throbbing.  Sigrid tried to keep the pain off her face, acutely aware of their audience, but Fíli must have seen something in her eyes because he held her gently in his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb into the sensitive skin of her forearm as Thranduil tied a silvery white cloth around their wrists.

 

“You are blood of my blood,” Fíli began, looking at her encouragingly.  She was glad he’d taken the initiative because the pain in her wrist had shoved every other thought out of her mind.  She faithfully echoed after him, staring at their joined hands as they continued, “I give you my body, and I give you my spirit, that we two may be one, from this day unto my last day.”

 

As the last word left her lips she looked up at Fíli and couldn’t help but smile.  He took her cheek in his free hand and surged forward, rising up on his toes to kiss her soundly.  Her cheeks warmed but she couldn’t care, everything else melted away for that moment.  All around her the crowd was applauding politely, except for two pockets on either side whooping at the tops of their lungs, which Sigrid suspected were her girlfriends from Dale, and the rest of the Dwarves that had been in Thorin’s Company.  Kíli whistled loudly, and Tilda was literally bouncing on the ground below.  

 

When they broke apart, Fíli bumped his forehead against hers.  “I love you, pretty Sigrid.  Are you happy?”

 

Mimicking his forehead tap, Sigrid kissed him once more.  “I am.”  

 

~*~

 

Forget what Shailla had said that morning - Sigrid was damn glad she’d slept in.  This day had been absolutely _ludicrous_.  After untying and cleaning up their wrists, Sigrid and Fíli had been shuffled off to the celebration feast where she greeted what felt like every single person on the earth and thanked them for coming.  The two of them had traded off speaking as the other chewed, otherwise they’d have never gotten fed, but Fíli never let go of her hand through it all.  

 

That is, of course, until the dancing started.  By the time Fíli had spirited her away to the horses in the early evening, Sigrid had danced with every Dwarf that had come up her toilet in Lake Town, all her friends, her father, her brother, her sister, Fíli’s mother, and probably every other noble Dwarf, Man, or Elf in attendance (except for Thranduil, who sat broodingly next to her Da whenever he got the chance, and was fooling no one).  She was ready to leave the party, but a little less ready to leave Dale.  

 

“Don’t you worry, pretty Sigrid,” Fíli had said when she hesitated to climb into the saddle.  “We’ll be back soon.”  Which was for the better, really.  She’d packed her things but could only take what she could fit on her one horse.  Luckily the ride to Erebor was short; holding the wedding smack in between the two kingdoms was the best idea she’d ever had.  All the extra patrols around the party had done their job, and no one had heard of any orcish trouble either during the feast or on Sigrid’s way back to Erebor.  When they finally arrived at the Mountain, arranged for the horses, and made it to their new rooms, she practically sobbed with relief.

 

Sigrid kicked off her shoes and fell back onto the mattress with a huff, the jewelry still in her hair jangling as she landed.  “Oh Valar, everything hurts,” she moaned, rubbing her face.  “I’m exhausted.  Please tell me I never have to do that again.”

 

Fíli chuckled as he closed the door behind them.  “Well.  Maybe,” he hedged, “But I hope you do.”

 

“What?  Why.  Why do you wish this fate upon me again.  I thought you loved me.”

 

“I do love you,” he answered patiently, laying on his side next to her.  “It would be for your coronation,” Fíli explained, playing absently with a stray lock of her hair.  “When I become king, you would be crowned queen as well.  I hope you will still be with me on that day.”  He nuzzled her cheek gently, punctuating each sentence with a kiss.  Then he stopped playing with her hair, and placed a hand on her stomach instead.  “And if we have a little bairn,” he added, voice barely above a whisper, warm against the skin of her neck, “then we’d have to present the little prince or princess to the kingdom…”

 

Sigrid gulped, speechless.  Now was _not_ the time to start talking about children.  She gave an ever-so-ladylike grunt as she rolled back up to sitting.  “Well for now, I need this dress off, and I need my hair taken down, and I need help to do it.”

 

Fíli sat up as well, shaking his head at her obvious avoidance maneuver, and started pulling at the laces at the back of her dress.  “Please, allow me.”  

 

As each cross of ribbon was pulled loose, Sigrid could breathe deeper and deeper.  “Goodness, I really didn’t realize how cinched into that thing I was.”  

 

He laughed again and stood, pulling her up after him.  He tugged on her sleeves and she slipped her arms out, then stepped out of the dress completely, standing only in her shift.  When he picked the dress up to throw it over a chair, he gave an exaggerated groan.  “What is this thing made out of? It weighs a hundred pounds!”

 

“Aye, and all these pins in my hair add another hundred.”

 

“So strong a woman will fit in well with us Dwarves after all!”  

 

Sigrid laughed along at his joke, but in the silence that followed she felt too bare, standing there in front of Fíli wearing nothing but her underthings, while he was still even in his boots.  She wrapped her arms around herself and ducked her eyes to the ground.  “Um.  I’m just going to go...“ she gestured awkwardly behind her, “over… Have a bit of a soak.  Um.”

 

Fíli smiled and nodded, then went to a chair in the antechamber by the door to take off his boots.  Sigrid was thankful he gave her that little bit of privacy as she walked into the bathroom.  For a moment she considered keeping her shift on in the tub; she hadn’t been fully naked in front of anyone else since she was a child.  

 

“Don’t be stupid, Sigrid,” she scolded herself under her breath as she carefully pulled her shift over her hair.  “He’s your bloody husband, you’ve had his cock in your mouth for pity’s sake…” Sigrid sunk down into the warm water of the tub and let out an unholy moan.  “Oh, Valar, this is exactly what I needed.  Bless these hot springs!  I’m never going to haul hot water again.”

 

“Never say never.”  Fíli stood in the doorway grinning at her.  He’d removed his belt, jerkin, and pauldrons, and now wore only his tunic and trousers, barefoot.  The golden circlet remained on his head though, apparently forgotten, making him look rather like a child playing pretend with their mother’s jewelry box.  “Anything could happen.”

 

“Anything?  Does that include my new husband taking off his princely crown any time soon?  or will you be wearing that to bed me?  Is this some sort of.. special taste that I should know about?”

 

Fíli’s hand shot up to his temple at her teasing, and he groaned to find she was right.  “Mahal,” he sighed, “you clearly aren’t the only one exhausted.”  He removed the headpiece and placed it on the table holding the towels.  Then he shoved the legs of his trousers up and sat behind Sigrid, feet in the water on either side of her.  “If this is all right, I could help you with your hair?”  When she murmured her assent, he started to pick gingerly at the pins and braids and jewelry, laying each piece on the table with special care.

 

After a moment, Sigrid relaxed against the wall of the tub and rested her head against his knee.  A pleasant ache ran across her scalp as her hair was let loose of all but her marriage braids, and she shuddered as Fíli combed his fingers gently through the wavy strands.  “Mmm, that feels good, Fí,” she sighed.

 

“Good,” he answered quietly, then pulled her hair off to the side and leaned forward so he could press kisses to her neck and shoulder.  His lips were hot against her cool skin, and goosebumps prickled over her whole body as he rubbed his hands gently over her upper arms.

 

Sigrid rolled her head back, breath coming heavier now.  “Ah, mm, Fíli…” she whispered, and brought an arm up out of the water to twist her fingers in Fíli’s hair, holding him in place as he kissed and nipped and sucked on her neck.  Her other hand wrapped around his ankle in the water, squeezing when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

 

“You don’t have to be quiet here,” he reminded her, flicking his tongue along her earlobe, then kissing right beneath it.  “We’re the only ones on this floor.”  He ran his hands over her chest, down into the water to cup her breast and run a thumb over her nipple.

 

“Fu-- Fíli!” Sigrid gasped.  Once the initial shock of heat running down her spine had subsided, she twisted to look up at him.  “That cannot be comfortable, leaning over like that.”

 

“Then shall we to bed?” he asked, chasing after her lips.  

 

Bed.  Though she’d just joked about it, somehow it hadn’t seemed so… imminent, until he’d brought it up again.  Luckily for Sigrid, the quiet escape to the Mountain meant she got to avoid the raucous bedding “ceremony” she knew other Lake Town women had had to go through, but she still felt a little nervous.   She’d had other boyfriends, messed around here and there, but this would be the first time she would…

 

“Sig, we don’t have to,” Fíli’s kind tone cut through her thoughts and she realized she must have just been sitting there with Valar only know what kind of look on her face.  He pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled at her.  “There’s no rush.”

 

She took a deep breath and smiled back at him, then stood up out of the water.  “No, I want to.”  She leaned down, kissed him soundly, and grabbed a towel to wrap around herself.  He scrambled up after her, and she held out a hand.  “So shall we?”

 

Fíli took her hand, but pulled her to him, bent, and picked her up like she barely weighed anything.  He laughed as she squealed, and carried her into the bedroom.  “My lady,” he murmured into her hair, playing along, then let her feet down to the ground.  “I hope you find everything to your liking.”

 

“Hm, there are a few improvements I would make,” she answered as she pressed into his space, arms still wrapped around his neck.  Nuzzling against the whiskers on his cheeks, she whispered, “You’re still drastically overdressed.”  Sigrid dragged her hands down his chest, relishing Fíli’s hard exhale against her neck as she hitched up his tunic to pull at the laces of his trousers.  

 

He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind him, and Sigrid found herself distracted.  A new scar cut a puckered pink line down his side and in towards his abdomen, about five inches long in total.  It must not have been long since the stitches were removed.  “Fíli…” She ran a thumb over it sadly.

 

“Hey, don’t you go worrying about that.  I can’t have you feeling sad.”  He took her chin in his hand and raised her eyes to his.  “Tonight is for me to make you very,” he kissed her, “very,” he kissed her again, “happy.”  He kissed her one last time, deeply, reaching down to grab her ass firmly and pull her against him.  She could feel her towel start to unwrap against his chest, but more urgent was Fíli getting hard in his trousers, the length of him almost uncomfortable against her hip, and it set off a sharp pang of want deep in her belly.

 

Groaning into his mouth, she reached down and finished opening the front of his pants, and backed away from him just enough to be able to pull his cock out and stroke it gently.  Fíli practically whined at her touch, then pushed his pants off and stepped out of them.  With that tiny bit of extra space between them, Sigrid’s towel finally fell to her feet.  

 

Barely taking his lips off hers, Fíli gently pushed her onto the bed. He followed, and propped himself up so he was mostly leaning over her, kissing her, tangling his fingers in her hair, grinding against her hip.  Her heart raced, the weight of him leaning over her both exciting and reassuring.  She ran her fingernails gently down his back, revelling in the shift of his muscles as he moved.  Before long he was so hard she couldn’t take it any more, feeling like she’d be bruised by his movement alone.  Fínally he trailed his mouth down to her breasts, nipping and sucking one nipple while he squeezed and pinched the other.  She could barely think anymore, the only thing she was able to focus on was the feeling of his mouth on her chest and the direct line it seemed to have straight down to her sex.

 

“Aah, ah, more, Fí, please, more,” she begged, hands gripping the bedclothes as she arched into him.  But instead of granting her wish he slowed down, softening his kisses and soothing his bites by laving his tongue over them.    “Please, Fíli, come on!”

 

He chuckled, brushing his whiskers against her belly.  “No rush, pretty Sigrid.  No rush.”  The beads in his mustache were cold against her overheated skin.

 

“There is!”

 

“There is not,” he replied patiently, shifting down lower on the bed and moving to rest between her legs.  He mouthed kisses over her belly, down to where her legs met her hips, on the insides of her thighs.  

 

The slow movement of his mouth over her legs was clearly meant to calm her, but Sigrid’s heart still pounded.  Her clit throbbed a steady pulse, and she was sure she was soaking wet.  “Gods, Fí, stop teasing me!”  She tugged on his hair and he gave a low laugh.  

 

“Careful with that, my dear,”  He reached up a hand to stroke her outer lips, gently pushing them apart.  It felt good, but a little odd when the air hit.  But then he brushed his thumb softly over her clit.  Sigrid gasped, yanking her knees up in the air.

 

“Ah, Fíli!  Fuck!  Sorry!”  She giggled at her own reaction and started to lower her legs, but Fíli reached up to hold them in place, giving him unrestricted access to her.

 

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” he muttered, kissing back down her leg until he nosed at her dark hair.  Fíli licked his lips, then pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on her clit.

 

A deep moan ripped out of Sigrid’s throat and she gripped Fíli’s hair tightly.  “Oh my--”  Speech completely failed her as he licked and sucked, seeming to read her mind as he hit every spot that needed attention.  She rolled her hips against him eagerly, trying and failing to keep her mouth under control.  He ran his tongue around the outside of her opening, pulling her lips into his mouth, running his teeth over them as he released.  He reached one hand up to squeeze and twist her nipple, and she threw her head back down onto the bed.  She could feel him everywhere, her very skin was thrumming with energy, her brain buzzing with the pleasure of his mouth on her sex.  

 

“Oh Fíli, _oh gods!”_  A whole new wave of sensation washed over her as he gently pushed a finger inside her, then added another, mouth still moving on her clit.  Sigrid felt completely full, and as he crooked his fingers she mewled loudly, stars exploding behind her eyelids.  Everything Fíli was doing felt so completely unlike anything she’d ever experienced;  none of the other boys she’d fooled around with had used their mouths on her, at least not beyond sloppily sucking on her breasts, and though she’d brought herself pleasure often enough it was never like this.

 

“Never?” Fíli asked smugly, still moving his fingers inside of her.

 

“Wha-- _ohshit,”_ Sigrid’s face burned with embarrassment and she covered her eyes with both hands.  “Did I really just say all that out loud?”

 

“Hey now, don’t worry sweetheart.  I’ll take the compliment!”  He kissed her thigh and smoothed his hands up and down her legs.  “Hey, come back to me.”

 

She parted her fingers so she could see him beaming up at her, then lowered her hands to cover her breasts instead. “...Hi.”

 

Fíli pulled himself back up to be level with her, rolling to the side, and kissed her cheek softly.  His mouth and beard smelled like sex, and when her face burned even hotter he added,  “I don’t want you to feel embarrassed for anything.  In fact, I want you to feel so good you lose yourself in it.”  

 

He ran his hand over hers, then all over her belly and hips, and pressed his lips to her neck, to her collarbone, down over her breasts as her hands fell away to clutch at his bicep.  “I love the sounds you make,” he whispered, ghosting his fingers down between her legs, barely touching where she still ached.  When she whimpered at that, he huffed a laugh and pressed harder at the top of her mound, rubbing against her clit until she moaned again.  “Just like that.”

 

She drew her nails down his back, pressing her face into the space between his neck and shoulder to stifle her sounds as he slipped his fingers back inside her.  “Oh, fuck, Fíli…”  She rode against his hand until she started to feel tension build low in her abdomen.  She was tensed all over, it wouldn’t be long at this rate, so she tapped his arm rapidly.  “Fíli--  ahh, Fíli, stop.”

 

Instantly he withdrew, looking up at her anxiously.  “What?  What is it?”

 

His concern was so earnest that she had to laugh.  “No, it’s nothing bad, it’s just, I want to feel you, inside me.  When I... you know?”  

 

“I know.”  Fíli nodded, lust plain in his eyes, and he kissed her deeply.  She could taste herself on his tongue and it thrilled her, but when she slipped a hand down to stroke his cock she was reminded just how big he was.  Surely it would fit; after all, _whole babies_ could _fit._  It was just, well, significantly more than the couple of fingers he had been using.  She pulled on his cock a few times, then leaned back and pushed at his shoulder so he lay on his back.  If she was on top, maybe she could control things better?

 

“Oh!” Fíli said happily as he fell into the pillows.  “This is nice.”

 

Sigrid smiled back and swung a leg over his hips to straddle him.  “All right,” she said, more to herself than him, and spit on her hand.  She rolled it over the head of his cock, slicking him up as well as she could before she got everything lined up.  Sigrid clutched onto Fíli’s chest, digging her nails into muscle there as she started to sink down.  Again she bit her lip, trying hard to relax as he pressed inside her.  Valar, she was wet but he was huge.  She blew out a deep breath and lowered herself a little more, closing her eyes as the stretch brought pain with the pleasure.  

 

Fíli’s hands rested on her hips, and though he did not add any downward pressure, it was clearly taking a lot of self-control.  His breath came in slow shudders and he spoke quietly, “It’s all right.  Take your time, love.”

 

With a quiet exhale she came to rest, sitting on Fíli’s hips.  “Just… a second.”  She thought she must be completely filled up, his cock buried so deep inside her that the slightest movement sent waves rippling up her spine.  

 

“S’all right.”  He slid his hands around to her butt, squeezing playfully.  “No rush.”

 

Sigrid felt a little pang as she moved experimentally, but it lessened with each roll of her hips until it wasn’t there at all.  “Oh… Oh Gods,” she breathed, fingers scrambling to grip his chest, trying to ground herself as she moved faster on top of him.

 

“That’s it, Sig, just like that,” Fíli whimpered.  His hold on her hips tightened as he helped direct her movements.  It wasn’t long before he began to move in time with her, each thrust pushing a strangled sound out of Sigrid.  After one particularly loud gasp, Fíli threw his head back.  “Damn, Sig, what those noises are doing to me!”  

 

“What?” she asked, passion making her bold.  She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

 

He gripped her tightly then, pulling her forward and down to him in time with each thrust.   _“Mahal,_ Sigrid, you feel so… So good,” he ground out, hips snapping against hers. “You sound so-- You’re driving me mad!  Every word--”

 

The new, aggressive movement ground her clit against his body and punched new noises out of her.  “Oh, fuck, oh, oh gods! I--”  The rhythm was intoxicating, she definitely couldn’t see straight, and the only thing she was able to focus on is the steady strokes of his cock against the sensitive spot inside her.  Every thought was eclipsed by the feeling of him moving inside of her, driving her to the brink.  She clenched down around him, every inch of her going tight from the inside out. “Fí, Fíli, I’m so close, I… I’m gonna, I’m--”  

 

She twisted her fingers in his hair, riding him for all she was worth, until her orgasm finally exploded over her.  A scream ripped out of her mouth, and she leaned down to kiss him, swallowing his shout as he followed quickly after her.  His hips stuttered, hands pressing bruises into her hips, and she acutely felt each little twitch of his cock as he came.  

 

Their movements slowed, and Sigrid giggled as she rested her head on his shoulder, the high of her orgasm and the sense of accomplishment she felt over his making her giddy.  She stayed there for a moment, enjoying the final sensations of their climax and catching her breath.  It was wet and warm between her legs, and a little sticky as she eventually pulled off him and rolled to the side.  “Heheheh ew,” she shivered, breath still heavy as she pushed her hair back and off her neck.

 

Fíli rolled over towards her and beamed, trailing a finger idly over her cheek and lips, down her neck, over her breast.  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.  “And so loud!”

 

She smacked him and rolled up off the bed as she recalled what Shailla had told her that morning.  “And _you’re_ mouthy!  I’m going to get cleaned up.”  He waved his acknowledgement at her, still blissed out, and she went to the bathroom to take care of business.  Sigrid was glad to have a little time to herself.  Fíli had been wonderful, of course, and now she was officially wedded and bedded.  

 

But she didn’t feel very different, she thought, as she placed the cover back on the chamber pot and wiped her thighs with a wet rag.  Plenty was changing around her, but she still felt like the same old Sigrid from Lake Town.  It didn’t matter.  Now she had a new kingdom and a new husband, who was likely falling asleep back in the bedroom.

 

When she returned it took quite a bit of coercion indeed to get the half-asleep Fíli under the covers.  She snuggled up next to him, and he wrapped an arm around her with a quiet hum.

 

“I love you,” he mumbled, halfway asleep.

 

“Oh I love you too,” she answered.

 

“Heyssig. ‘Re you happy?”

 

“Very happy.”  Surprisingly, unbelievably happy.  Not all the world’s problems were solved, and there would be much to do come the morning.  But there in their new bed, looking out the window he’d carved just for her, Sigrid knew they would be able to figure it out.   

  
  
  
  



	14. Now Is the Hour

Fíli always woke earlier than Sigrid, it seemed.  Perhaps it was the extra sunlight coming in through the window, but perhaps it was just how much he enjoyed seeing her lying at peace, face flushed sleep-warm, hair a mess on the pillow, curled up on her side in a little ball facing him.  He kissed her forehead and lay back, looking at the ceiling.  In the few weeks since their wedding, they had spent a lot of time wrapped up in each other.  Most of their time was spent together, if they could help it, and though certain brothers who shall remain nameless gave them a hard time, Sigrid took the teasing gamely and gave back as good as she got.

 

He sighed and turned his head to look back at his wife.  Today things would change.  Again.  Thorin and Bard had agreed with Fíli’s assessment at the first meeting after the wedding:  as no one of their kingdoms had been successful alone, they needed to take advantage of all the Dwarves, Elves, and Men who had come to the plains along the Rushing River for the wedding.  About half the number had agreed to stay and help; with Thorin, Bard, and Thranduil working together to lead them, Fíli thought they stood a good chance to eradicate the Orcs from their land for the foreseeable future.  They set out today.

 

Fíli rolled back over and propped his head up on his folded arm, then reached over to move a piece of hair off of Sigrid’s face.  She had been so devastated when he’d told her that he was leaving, though she tried to hide it from him.  Too used to rulers who sat on their ass giving orders, it was hard for her to see why he had to go with them.  Despite best efforts, all the old arguments from their letters during their month of courting rose back up, and new ones too.  Isn’t he needed in Erebor as well?  What if something happens to him, what will happen to her?  Since he must go, why can’t she as well?

 

“Lie still, will ya?” Sigrid mumbled as her eyes fluttered open.  “You’ve been flopping around, moving the bed so much I feel I’m back in Lake Town.”  

 

He chuckled lowly.  “I’m sorry, love.  C’mere.”  He shifted once more so she could snuggle in closer, resting her head on his shoulder.  “Oh, I’ll miss this,” he mumbled into her hair.

 

“Then don’t go,” she argued weakly.  

 

He just let it hang, unwilling to spend his last few hours with her fighting.  

 

“I love you,” Sigrid added, trailing a finger down his bare chest, pulling at the hair there playfully.

 

He returned the favor, walking two fingers down from her collarbone to squeeze her breast, laughing when she batted him away.

 

“Hey now,” she warned, then rolled over so her back was to him, “you really oughtta learn to behave yourself.  It’s not too late for me to call this off.”

 

Fíli laughed and pulled their bodies together so her back was flush with his chest.  Of course, this meant that his half-hard dick was neatly lined up with her ass, and he pushed into the pleasant feeling.  “Mmm, if this is supposed to be punishment, darling, it’s not working.”  

 

She squirmed out from under him and rolled onto her back.  Smiling sadly, she shook her head.  “Don’t, Fi, I… I can’t.  Not today.”  

 

Relaxing back into the pillows, he sighed.  “It’s all right.”  Fíli lay there next to her, willing away his erection so he could get on with his day.  “We should get going anyway, so we can eat and I can…” _get on the road._

 

They both rose from the bed reluctantly, hardly speaking as they both went to the bath.  Silently Fíli helped comb Sigrid’s hair out, wash it, and replace her braids, wanting to leave them fresh for her so she wouldn’t have to worry about them in his absence. They turned, water babbling around their movement, and Sigrid scrubbed his back, pressing kisses like prayers into his skin.  Fíli turned in her arms, hugged her close and sunk lower into the warm water.  She buried her face in his shoulder and choked back a sob, and he tightened his hold.  “Ohh, it’s going to be all right, Sig.  Thorin put together the best team possible.  I’ll be with Kíli, and Tauriel, my mother, Dwalin, and with a whole army behind us.  We’ll be fine.”  As fine as one could be when you had to carry a mission out with your baby brother, his girlfriend, and your mom, anyway.  

 

The strokes of his hand up and down her back rose goosebumps all over her body, and she shivered.  “I know.”  She took a deep breath as if to steady herself and repeated, “I know.”  But when she turned to wrap herself in a towel and leave the bath, he saw tears in her eyes.  They returned to silence, dressing slowly, methodically.  Fíli tightened and tied off the bodice of her dress, Sigrid handed him his knives and throwing axes that he tucked in his boots, shirt, and coat.  They left their quarters with barely a sound.

 

Despite the melancholy tone his morning had taken, when Fíli arrived in the armory for the rest of his gear, the excitement of the rest of the Dwarves was infectious.  It was incredibly busy.  Every whetstone was in use, leather strops were passed around like candy, and the smell of polish and metal hung in the air.  Sigrid had not come with him, saying she’d just be in the way, and while he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, she had been correct.  Fíli threw elbows left and right until he retrieved his two swords and three extra throwing axes and, finding them to be in good repair, followed a head of red hair rising high above the rest.

 

“Tauriel!” he called once he caught up to her.  “I am pleased you’re coming with us!”

 

“I couldn’t let you Dwarves have all the fun, hm?” she teased, counting the arrows in her quiver.  Satisfied, she looked down at him with a smile.  “Kíli is helping bring the ponies and horses to the main gate.  He seems very keen to show off to the rest of the teams King Thorin has assembled.”

 

Fíli nodded as he followed her up the stairs towards the Great Hall from which the warring parties would depart.  “That sounds like him.  Always looking for an audience.”

 

“Yes, well, he’ll have to get over that quickly,” Tauriel answered with a wry smile.  “T’will be a short mission indeed if he’s caught out.”

 

“Perhaps we could utilize his skill instead,” Fíli mused.  “He can be quite the distraction when he wants to be.”

 

“Oi, I can hear you!” Kíli called from up ahead, drawing the eyes of nearly half the crowd assembled.  

 

Tauriel just laughed.  “You’ve a sign of a true leader, Prince Fíli:  turning weaknesses into strengths.”

 

True leader indeed.  Well let no one say he did not do what needed to be done.  That, ultimately, had been the part that Sigrid understood.  Fíli noticed she was with Kíli, mouth drawn into a thin smile as the younger brother joked with her.  Drawing nearer, he realized Kíli was regaling her with his favorite war stories.  Of course.  

 

“--standing on my shoulders, catches an axe someone throws him, and _bam!_ Right in the chest.  Meanwhile I’m trying to deal with all those sons of bitches on the grou-- Oh, hi Fi.  Ready to go?”   
  
“Aye, and are you?  Or have you spent so much time chatting up my lady wife that you’ve forgotten to actually tie on that saddlebag?”

 

Sigrid snorted in laughter as Kíli’s eyes went wide and he frantically checked every strap on the saddle, then she turned her attention to Fíli.  “Do you have everything you need?  I checked over your pony and everything seems to be in order.”  She ticked off fingers as she recounted, “A change of clothing, rain gear, water skins, bandages, herbs and ointments, wine skins, whetstone, strop and rags, treats for the pony, treats for you--”  
  


“Treats for me?”

 

She smiled larger now, proud. “I packed you some honey candy that I made”

 

Fíli grinned, pulling her into his arms.  “Thank you.  For the candy.  For checking the bags.” _For understanding, or at least trying to._  She sank into him with a shuddering sigh, and he held her there while Thorin got up on his pony and started speaking.  Her hair smelled sweet, and Fíli breathed deep, trying to memorize the scent, to let it sink into his clothes.  After a long moment, she pulled away and started digging in her bodice.

 

Sigrid produced a yellow handkerchief embroidered with a stylized “S,” and pressed it into his hand, whispering to him under the noise of the crowd and Thorin’s speech.  “Hold onto this.  Bring it back to me.  Yourself.  In one piece, yeah?  Got it?”

 

“I got it,” he answered quietly, stuffing it under his bracer, up his sleeve.

 

When Thorin had finished speaking, the whole assembly rose to activity.  Dwarves were climbing on their ponies, adjusting their gear, saying goodbyes.  Sigrid got Kíli’s attention and pulled him into a tight hug.  Despite his slightly puzzled expression she kept holding him by the shoulders and fixed him with a serious look.  “Be careful.  Make Fíli be careful.  Look after him, all right?  I won’t have a repeat of the Great Battle, you understand?  Don’t let him split you up.”

 

He gave her an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes hugely.  “I should never have told you about that!  Now I have… _responsibility.”_ But he sobered enough to give her a reassuring smile.  “I will.  And we’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”

 

Tauriel mounted her horse, scoffing at him.  “You have quite a high opinion of your relationship.”

 

“Excuse me, _my dear,”_ he protested, “the relationship between a brother and sister-by-marriage is sacred and pure and who are you to judge?”  He swung into his saddle and hooked his bow around the horn.

 

Fíli slipped two extra daggers into pockets in his stirrups as they talked, but soon there was nothing left to check, no way to put off the goodbye any longer.  He let Sigrid hug him, kiss him fiercely.  When they broke apart, her eyes shone.  

 

“Behave yourself, you hear me?  Don’t pull anything stupid.  It’s not just you anymore, right, you have me waiting for you now.”  

 

“I know, Sig,” he answered quietly.  “Like Kíli said, we’ll be back soon.”  Fíli kissed her again, gently, slowly, memorizing every slip of her lips against his.  He slipped his hand up the back of her neck, fingers twisting in her hair.  When she broke away, he chased her lips for one last kiss, then pressed his forehead to hers.  “I love you.  So, so much.”

 

“I love you,” she answered, smiling back at him bravely.  

 

He hopped up into his saddle and secured his feet in the stirrups, then gave her one last smile.  “See you soon, pretty Sigrid.”  She waved back, and he clicked his tongue, nudged his heels into the haunches of his pony, and trotted after his brother and uncle.  

 

~*~

 

After a few hours, the riding party had significantly widened out.  Instead of the neat, sharp ranks in which they’d left, smaller groups had formed.  It was to be expected;  they had several days of riding ahead of them, so talking with one’s friends would pass the time a little faster at least.  Fíli couldn’t blame anyone at all.  He was the worst offender: most of Thorin’s Company was back together again, and though they lacked the plucky Hobbit, Tauriel’s banter with Kíli was a welcome substitute to Bilbo’s earnest bumbling.  Balin and Oin’s skills would be better put to use in Erebor when the war party returned, as they couldn’t bring everything they’d need along with them.

 

He had to admit, it felt good to be on the road again.  He’d never admit it to any other Dwarf, but sometimes the Mountain had yet to feel like a true home.  And of course, nothing could ever beat the rush of nostalgia he felt as he looked around him and saw the friends with whom he’d spent so much time on the road.

 

Surely he missed Sigrid, but to be honest they still hadn’t spent enough time together for him to truly miss any sort of constant companionship.  They’d still spent more of their relationship sharing letters back and forth than sharing a bed.  He couldn’t have risked bringing her anyway.  She wasn’t ever afraid to get her hands dirty, but she wasn’t a warrior.  They would both be happier with her staying at home… he hoped.

 

~*~

 

The next day Fíli hurt.  Everywhere.  His ass hurt, his thighs hurt, his shoulders hurt, everything hurt.  Had he gotten so soft in so little time?  Once he thought about it, he realized it had indeed been months since he’d ridden all day long, and perhaps an entire year since he’d slept on the ground.  His mother, though one hundred years older than him, seemed completely unaffected; how embarrassing.  

 

“Fíli, son, keep those eyes open.  Don’t tell me you’re sore!”  Dís chuckled as she threw a blanket over the back of her ram.  “We’ve only been out a day!”

  
“No, no, not at all, Mother,” he answered, folding his hands in front of him as if he had not just been rubbing his shoulder.  “I could do this all year.  Or even two!  I certainly did when we came to take back Erebor, I can do it to defend her.”

 

“Aye, and you’ve been sittin’ on your rear for a year since,” she replied breezily, buckling the last strap on her stirrup.  She fit the bit into the ram’s mouth and tutted at it for a bit, then lifted up easily into the saddle.  

 

Fíli sighed.  “Come now, Mother, I have been doing no such thing.”  But all she gave him was a look.

 

He bit his tongue as he got back up in the saddle, unwilling to let anyone else see how stiff he was.  And anyway, he’d be used to it again in no time.  Probably.

 

~*~

 

On the third night, Fíli sat awake against a tree, facing away from the campfires still popping and hissing away.  He was still stiff, but Gloin had slipped him something special for his pipe, and has he puffed away on it everything sort of soothed over.  Soon his thoughts were wandering, predictably, back to his wife, his bed, his wife in his bed... him alongside his wife in his bed...  

 

A branch cracked, and Fíli jerked his head around to his left.  Kíli stood there, waggling his eyebrows at him and waving the stick he’d broken over his knee.  “Keep your eyes open, brother.  I don’t want to wake up to find I’m dead.”

 

“Oh fuck off,” Fíli grouched, shifting into what may or may not have actually been a more comfortable position and crossing his arms over his chest.  Kíli just laughed it off and returned to his corner of the camp, dragging the branch along behind him.  The buzz Fíli had been enjoying had been yanked away from him, and all that was left in its place was a headache.  Plus he’d have to be traveling all day tomorrow with only a half night’s sleep.  At least his annoyance would keep him awake.

 

~*~

 

Sure enough, morning came far too soon.  “I let you sleep as long as I could,” Dís apologized when Fíli finally opened his eyes, “but half the party’s already gone.  Come on and get that bedroll packed, boy.  I’ll saddle your pony.”

 

“Shit!”  Fíli cussed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  “Who’s still left?”  He scrambled on the ground, not even bothering to brush the pebbles and leaves off the bottom of his bedroll before tying it off.  Then he finally stood and looked around.  Most of who remained were the Dwarves from Erebor, and at the top of the hill sat Thorin on his horse, looking positively stormy. “Oh Mahal help me, Thorin’s gotta be beside himself,” he moaned, buckling his breastplate on hurriedly.  He grabbed his gauntlets and bracers, shoving them under one arm as he focused on getting the horse saddled and tacked with his mother.

 

She just tutted, fitting the bit gently between the teeth of the pony.  “Well, yes, but that’s basically his default state, so I mostly ignore it.  You’ll be fine, or I’ll talk to ‘im.”

 

He sighed again.  “You don’t have to do that, Mother, I’m a grown Dwarf.”  

 

“And yet,” she replied airily, lifting up easily into the saddle on her giant ram.

 

Fíli leapt into his saddle and trotted his pony up to meet Thorin, trying nonchalantly to tighten his armor on as he went.  “So…” he began tentatively.  “How are you?”

 

“Late,” the king replied, kicking his heels and galloping off.

 

So Thorin was in a talkative mood.  Wonderful.  Fíli followed after him, catching up quickly, and spent the remainder of the day alongside his uncle.  Eventually Thorin did thaw, and told Fíli that the Mirkwood Elves were scouting ahead, Rohan and Gondor preparing to flank with reinforcements from the Iron Hills coming from the East.  The plan was to let the Elves take out the Orc stragglers on the approach, and then hit heavy and hard right in the heart of the bivouac the Orcs had set up just to the south of Ered Mithrin.  They would need to attack early tomorrow, though, as they couldn’t keep the Orcs from noticing their missing scouts, nor hide their massive army.

 

Battle tomorrow.  Fíli felt a rush just thinking about it.  His weapons were sharp, his armor secure, and with no watch duty tonight, he’d be in top shape.  The Dwarves of Erebor were all clustered together, an excited humming running through the camp.  Dís sat in front of a fire with Dwalin, Kíli, and Tauriel, and Thorin even had left his tent to sit with them and trade tales.  Fíli smiled as he watched Dís pull at her moustache braids as she animatedly told some story.  By his guess it was either about when he was fifteen and he’d told her he wanted to do his beard just like hers, or longer ago, when Thorin had been younger and got mad that he couldn’t manage it.

 

Fíli laid back against a rock and sighed happily.  This was what he was made for, he and his brother.  They were fighters, to the last Dwarf.  Fíli and Kíli, Sons of Durin, Heirs to Erebor and warriors to the bone.  He looked over to Kíli, and when he caught his eye, Fíli found the same energy in his brother as he grinned back.  They were ready to pound the Orcs so far into the dust that they’d never bother their kingdoms again, even unto Fíli’s reign.

 

Sigrid had been right, though.  If they were going to win, if Fíli were to live long enough to succeed the throne, they would have to do it together.  He had learned his lesson that day he’d dangled over that cliff: he belonged with his brother.  Fíli never should have left Kíli behind.  Instead, they would ride in together, at first light.

 

~*~

 

This time Fíli woke ahead of most of the Company.  He briefly considered writing to Sigrid even though they’d decided no news was good news, just in case.  Yet even if he could think of something to say besides _‘Hello dear, I may be headed to my death this morning, though I’ll try hard not to be killed, I promise’,_ it wouldn’t be worth the reaming he’d get when he returned, nor the raven to send it.  So instead he ran a stone over the edge of his sword, checked the daggers and throwing axes stowed all over the inside of his armor and boots, and stuffed the wrapped piece of lembas that Tauriel had given him into a pocket in his boot..

 

A small number would stay behind at the camp to care for the horses and ponies, and to prepare a triage center.  However with Oin having stayed behind at the Mountain, ‘rough’ wouldn’t even begin to describe the conditions.  The rest would march into battle, which was all the better for Fíli since he’d always hated fighting while mounted.  Sure enough, by the time the sun started to peek over the horizon, everyone was falling into place.  Fíli found himself between Dwalin and Thorin, with Kíli and Tauriel close as well.  Perfect.

 

“The Elf King says it’s an hour’s march to the Orc base,” Thorin said quietly.  “So let’s get moving.”

 

Sure enough, an hour later the sun was full in the sky and shone over a tall, steep hill dotted with lean-tos and smoldering remains of campfires.  The marching company stood atop another craggy hill on the other side of a ravine.  Thorin lifted an arm, and Dwarves unsheathed their swords, or unstrapped their warhammers and axes in a chorus of whispers.  The front two lines formed a phalanx with their shields and spears; Kíli, Tauriel, and some other archers brought up the rear of this particular platoon, and had arrows nocked and at the ready.  With an explosion of noise, Orcs burst over the ridge, clashing immediately with the Dwarves.

 

When the initial wave had been broken with the spears, the phalanx broke and charged forward.  Adrenaline surged through Fíli as he swung his swords, bobbing and weaving around Orcs and Dwarves alike.  One particularly nasty one with a short, curved sword came rushing towards him, screaming bloody murder.  Fíli blocked the attack with his left hand, swung out with his right, but the Orc had a breastplate made of bone.  He charged back at it, jabbing at the torso, swinging at the neck, pushing it further back until an arrow landed with a _thwop_ in its eye.  Fíli whipped around.  Was that friend or foe?  He hadn’t seen the arrow before the orc had fallen back over the ridge.  A whistle, and he saw his brother wave before plucking another arrow from his quiver and returning to work.

 

Fíli ran away from the edge of the cliff, rather loathe to face a similar fate as the Orc he’d just been fighting.  He ended up at Thorin’s back, moving opposite his uncle to slash at the clumsy hoard.  Dori had a war hammer now, somehow, and was bashing orcs left and right.  He could see Kíli had unsheathed his sword, apparently out of arrows.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of a sword coming at him, and he dropped to the ground as it whistled over his head.  He lashed out with both swords, cutting the Orc off at the ankles, then scrambled to his feet and plunged a blade into its heart.

 

Now separated from Thorin, he looked frantically around the battlefield for someone to team up with.  Tauriel was a whirlwind of green, orange, and silver as she took down every single enemy to come her way.  The way she was moving, he’d get in the way more than anything.  To his right, he noticed that Nori had a polearm and was choked up on it so much the butt of it was getting in his way, but his opponent had pressed in so close there was nothing he could do.  Fíli sprinted over to him, able to get a good slash in to distract the Orc so Nori could take its head off.  Three dead Orcs later, Fíli bent over, leaning on his knees to try to catch his breath.

 

“Brother!”  Kíli called frantically, some twenty feet away.

 

Fíli dropped his sword out of his right hand and pulled one of his small axes from his belt.  He pulled his arm back to throw, but hesitated.  There were several bodies fighting between him and his brother, and he didn’t have a clear shot.  Kíli was backed up against a tree and his foe pushed in, eagerly hacking away.  Moments ticked by at an agonizing pace, and finally Fíli was able to let loose.  He caught the Orc in the shoulder, and as it spun away from the impact, Kíli slashed its throat, spraying dark blood everywhere.  

 

They grinned at each other, the high of success momentarily distracting, but Fíli saw his brother’s smile fade an instant before a blow to the back sent him skidding face first over the ground.  “Fíli!” Kíli called, but he was held up by two more Orcs who’d come from out of nowhere, it seemed.  As he rolled over, Fíli could feel pebbles and bits of grass sticking to his bloodied face, but he had no time to brush it off; he hauled the sword in his left hand in front of his face, barely blocking the axe of what had to be the hugest Orc Fíli had seen since Azog, holding a heavy, studded mace.  

 

“Holy sh--” he gasped, interrupting himself as he rolled out of the way of a second swing.  A cut on his brow bled, running down in a ticklish streak around his eye, and he dug in his belt for a dagger.  With no time to switch the larger sword to his dominant hand, Fíli felt slightly off balance as he jumped to his feet. He noticed that the Orc wore no breastplate, but it was so much larger than Fíli that he’d have a hard time landing any blows.

 

They circled each other slowly, step by step testing the others’ patience.  A feint here, a heavy step there, but neither moved for several long breaths.  Seeing his brother run towards them on the other side, Fíli stopped the rotational movement, which the Orc took as an opportunity.  It lunged forward, and Fíli danced to the side but wasn’t quick enough.  The mace caught Fíli full in the chest, and he hit the ground hard, his weapons flying out of his hands.  Luckily Kíli had caught up to them quietly enough that he got the damned thing right in the kidney.  As it fell to its knees, Kíli cut its throat and pushed it backwards.  Once satisfied it was dead, he ran over to Fíli.

 

“Fíli!  Brother, are you all right?”

 

There were spots in his vision, and the image of his brother swam around a bit.  He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea overtook him, and he barely got his helmet off before he rolled onto his hands and knees and emptied his stomach.  Every heave brought a stabbing pain in his side, and as he breathed deeply to quiet his stomach, the pain increased.  Fíli threw his head back and groaned.

 

“Shit, shit, fuck!” Kíli sheathed his sword and gathered those of Fíli’s weapons he could find, then dragged Fíli up onto his feet.

 

“Mahal, Ki, I think I really got my bell rung,” Fíli groaned, light-headed.  He tried to shake it off, but that only made it worse, so he leaned against a boulder while Kíli stuffed his swords back into the sheathes on his back.  

 

“I know, we need to get you out of here,” he answered, throwing Fíli’s arm over his shoulder.  “Thorin’s pushed them back quite a ways.  He’s down at the bottom of the ravine now, and archers are taking care of the ones coming down the hill.  I think we’re close to a retreat.”

 

“Then let us go to them!  Durin’s sons!” Fíli exclaimed, throwing his other arm up into the air, then hissing as a bolt of pain shot through his torso.

 

Kíli pulled the both of them around behind a tree and sat him down.  “You’re punch-drunk, and not going anywhere.”

 

He leaned his head back against the trunk and tried to slow his breathing and get the world to sit still for a moment.  Next thing he knew, a canteen was pressed to his lips.  He spat the first mouthful out, trying to rinse the horrible taste away, but drank eagerly after that.  “Shit, Kíli, that bastard really got me.”  He raised a hand to his face, probing gently at the tackiness.  “I must have a broken rib. I can’t take a deep breath, it hurts too much.”

 

“Well you’ll be enjoying the ride home then,” Kíli answered somewhat absently.  He was scanning the battlefield, which had indeed quieted significantly.  He made a small triumphant noise and darted out before Fíli could protest. Minutes later he returned with his short bow and someone else’s quiver, and scampered up the tree to perch on a branch so he could see a little farther.  

 

“How’s it look out there?”

 

“Not bad,” Kíli answered, nocking an arrow against the string.  “The Elves came ‘round the other side of the hill after the Orcs had gone into the ravine to charge us.  Thranduil and Legolas and them made sure they couldn’t retreat.  There aren’t many left at this point.  I expect Thorin will have them all killed for good measure.”

 

Fíli closed his eyes and nodded.  “Yes, I expect so.”

 

“Now that it’s calmed down I think I’ll go help out, tell people where you are--”

 

“--Don’t you dare,” Fíli warned, coughing as he sat up straight.  “Don’t you dare leave me.  Do you remember what happened last time we tried that?  And anyway, Sigrid would have your hide and more than half my gold in the divorce if she found out we’d split up.”

 

“Aye, you’re right,” Kíli replied, lowering the bow.  “You’re in a pretty sorry shape anyway.”

 

“I’ve had worse.”

 

“But I’d rather not recreate it.”

 

Fíli relaxed again against the tree with a heavy groan, more than willing to rely on his brother for now.  His eyelids were so heavy; each time they shut it was harder to open them again.  He felt like he was operating completely under water.  He closed his eyes and scratched absently at the scrapes and cuts on his face, then let his hand drop back to the ground. As he slipped back asleep, he vaguely registered the sound of Bombur’s deep warhorn.  What good news.  They would feast to Mahal’s glory when they returned home. But for now... a little nap couldn’t hurt.

 

 


	15. On Ever After

 

Sigrid paced up and down the hallway between the Great Hall and the wing of living quarters.  It had been fifteen days since her husband had left, and she’d received no raven, no runner, nothing.  When they’d agreed “no news was good news,” she hadn’t actually thought he’d meant it.  But he had, evidently.  And while Sigrid had not been privy to any of the planning, she’d gotten Balin to show her the map they’d been using.  As far as Thorin had known, the main encampment the Orcs were using between Erebor and Mount Gundabad should only have been three or four days with the size army they had.  So why weren’t they back yet?

 

For the first week or so she had done a really good job, she’d thought, of staying busy and being productive and such.  Shailla had come to visit, and Sigrid had taken the opportunity to test her knowledge of the Mountain’s layout as she toured her friend around.  They’d gotten hopelessly lost together at one point, collapsing into a fit of giggles once she had admitted it.  Someone had heard them and led them back to the Dining Hall but she knew Shailla would never let her forget it.  Unfortunately she only stayed for a few days before she was needed again at the kitchen which, Sigrid was pleased to hear, had seen a marked decline in the number of people served over the past couple months.  Some of the people they’d helped immediately after the Battle had even come back to take turns serving, which was good because Sigrid would hardly ever be able to help in person any more.  

 

So instead she’d decided to try to find some other cause to serve inside the Mountain.  Finally at dinner one night, seeing her restlessness, Óin had suggested she come down to the Mountain’s hospital and learn some Dwarvish medicine, help prepare for Thorin’s return.  While she hated to think that there would be a large number of injured, she was quite glad to help boil, dry, and fold bandages to keep her hands busy.  She hung herbs for drying and crushed them when they were ready, listening to Óin explain all their uses and trying to commit it to memory.

 

Of course, now her mind was scattered, unable to settle.  She imagined Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin marching back victorious into the Great Hall, dusted up by battle and travel but otherwise unharmed.  That didn’t last long; too quickly she was asking ‘What if?’ and the dust turned to blood, confident gaits turned to limping, stuttering steps, bright eyes turned lifeless in bodies slung across the backs of ponies.  Fire flashed and crackled, smoke burned her nostrils, and she stopped abruptly in her tracks, rubbing her eyes hard in an effort to erase the way tragedies both real and imagined had bled together.

 

“Fuck,” she whispered, slumping against the wall.  “This is getting ridiculous.”  She turned around to start pacing again.  At least when her eyes were open she saw what was really there.

 

A second later she had to re-evaluate that thought when she nearly ran straight into the broad chest of a Dwarf rushing in the opposite direction.  “Óin?  What is it?”

 

“Thorin’s back,” he huffed, obviously having just run all the way from the hospital.  “We have work to do.  Come.”  He turned immediately and hustled back down towards the Great Hall, clearly expecting her to follow.

 

“Hold on, Óin, wait!”  Sigrid called after him.  “What about Fíli!?” She jogged to catch back up to him and caught his elbow, demanding,  “Óin, what about Fíli?”

 

“I know as much as you do, lass,” Óin answered testily.  “We’re jus’ tryin’ to get as many hands as we can to put the ponies away and get folks down to the hospital.”  

 

As they neared the end of the corridor the sound of hundreds of Dwarves and animals grew louder and louder.  When Sigrid stepped into the Hall the din felt deafening, and with so many packed into the space she couldn’t see far enough to find her husband.  The smell of cold clung to steeds and Dwarves alike, and she noticed that some packs were dusted with snow.  Had it gotten so late in the year already?  By the general energy running through the crowd she gathered they must have succeeded in their mission, but plenty were sporting hastily-patched wounds of varying severity, which while to be expected, still worried her.

 

 _Where_ was Fíli?  Her hair, twisted into a simple braid down her back, now whipped back and forth over her shoulder as she searched frantically for him.  She saw long beards and short ones, blond hair and brown, but the golden head wearing her marriage braid was nowhere to be found.  He had to have made it back, _he had to have._  She pawed her way through the crowd, calling his name, but nobody turned.

 

“Lady Sigrid,” Óin shouted, breaking through her mounting panic.  “Work to do, lass.  Take this sorry lot down to hospital, clean ‘em up a bit and get some ointment and fresh bandages on these injuries please.”  While his words were soft his tone was not, and as desperately as Sigrid wanted to find Fíli, she found herself following his order.

 

“All right gentlemen, let’s get going,” she called, leading the first group down to the hospital.  Once they got away from the noise, she asked, “So what’s wrong with you all?”  Every Dwarf in turn made a sort of noncommittal noise and a shrug.  “I’m not asking because I want to throw a pity party,” she sighed.  “I just need to know what I’m up against.”

 

“I’ve lost me a finger,” one admitted quietly.  “Couldna find it on the field so I guess I’ll do without.”

 

“Jus’ a scratch on me arm,” another answered.  “Though it’s startin’ ta smell a bit an’ it won’t stop oozin.”

 

Wonderful.  Sigrid waited for the rest to sound off, and when they arrived at the hospital she set them down in order.  “All right, Knife-to-the-Foot first, then Fingerless and Sir-Tis-But-A-Scratch.  I’ll get to the rest of you in a bit.  Get yourselves some water, put some of this--” she took a jar down from the shelf, “--in it, and drink up, everyone!”

 

It turned out Knife-to-the-Foot was exactly as severe as it sounded.  The blade had gone through the top of her boot into her foot;  there was no way to help her without pulling the knife out first.  So Sigrid loosened the laces on the boot until she could get her arm inside it.  “All right, Vidar, we’re going to go as quickly as possible here.  I’m going to pull the knife out and you have to pull your boot and socks off, and we’ll see what the damage really is.”

 

Vidar nodded grimly, and Sigrid clenched her jaw as she gripped the handle of the knife.  “Is there someone who can help me hold her foot down please?”  

 

“Here, I can do it,” a warm voice answered.  Sigrid met Fíli’s eyes-- no, it was Dís, who had a bandage wrapped around her upper arm and a cut over one eye, but seemed to still be in good shape.  

 

“Oh, um, hi!  I didn’t see you come in!”  The blood drained out of Sigrid’s face, horrified to have accidentally ignored her mother-by-marriage.

 

“You are very busy, and my injuries can wait,” she answered kindly, and squeezed the other Dwarf’s foot meaningfully.

 

“Thank you,”  Sigrid breathed.  “All right, Vidar, here we go.  On the count of three.  One, two--” She yanked upwards as hard as she could, stumbling backwards as the knife released.  Dís and Vidar rushed to pull her boot off, and Sigrid tossed the knife into a basin and grabbed a new, clean bowl of water to wash the wound.  Her lips pressed into a thin line once she got a look at it.  “Vidar, wiggle your toes for me please.”  When every toe moved, Sigrid finally allowed herself to breathe out.  “Wonderful, great job.”  She gently dabbed blood away as it steadily welled up, and was pleased to find that the boot had actually protected the wound from dirt or other injury.  “This really isn’t as bad as it could have been,” she murmured as she threaded her needle.  

 

“You should see the piece of scum that did this,” Vidar answered. “You wouldn’t be sayin’ the same of him, if you could find ‘im.”

 

Sigrid allowed herself a little laugh, pulling steady, even stitches to close the wound.  

 

“Aye, and how many did you take down after?” Dís asked cheerily.

 

“Hm, seven or eight.  This slowed me down more than I’d’a liked.”

 

After wrapping the foot in herbs and bandages, Sigrid handed Vidar an additional pouch of herbs.  “Make yourself some tea with this, for the pain, keep that clean and dry, and come back in a couple days for Óin to look at.”  Vidar took the pouch with a smile and a nod, and limped off.  “Next?”

 

Fingerless had suffered a pretty clean cut, so after rinsing it off she was able to stitch up the nub of his finger and wrapped it up with ointment and a fresh bandage.  “Keep that clean, drink lots of water, and you’ll be fine!”  Next came Sir-Tis-But-A-Scratch, who needed part of the necrotic skin clipped away and the whole wound burned clean.  “You come back here right away tomorrow, you hear?  Oin needs to see this.  If you get a fever tonight you come down sooner, no buts about it.”  She paused and took a deep breath before she turned to her next patient.  “All right, Dís, you next?”

 

Her mother-by-marriage smiled and hopped up onto the table Sigrid had been using to raise her patients up to eye level.  “Took an arrow through the arm, but luckily it was a clean one, no poison.”  She unwrapped the bandage and shrugged out of her jerkin, then pulled her shirt open and stuck her arm gingerly out through the neck hole.  “Tried to keep it clean but you know how it is on the road.”

 

Sigrid smiled as she washed her hands and brought a clean rag and bandage over.  “You did a good job, she murmured, washing the wound with water and then hot wine.  “I want to stitch this up, though, all right?”  She found a clean needle and stuck her tongue out, trying to thread it.

 

“I can see why my son loves you so,” Dís murmured, discreetly looking away from her injury.  “Wouldn’t shut up about you the whole way out to Gundabad.”

 

“O- oh?” Sigrid asked, heart wrenching in her chest.

 

“Aye, you’re tough,” she bit out, hissing as Sigrid pressed the needle through her skin.  “And you’re smart, calm under pressure, kind.  You’ll make a good queen for him.  No wonder Fíli was in such a rush to marry you!”

 

Sigrid tied the knot off and looked up at her mother-by-marriage.  Her face was drawn and she hunched over herself a bit.  Seemed Sigrid wasn’t the only one who was worrying.  She wet a cloth and dabbed at the cut above Dís’ eye.  “You really think I’m ‘calm under pressure’?  You mustn’t have heard what happened with King Thorin.”

 

“Bah!  My brother’s never known a good thing when it’s lookin’ him right in the eye,” she replied, with a chuckle.  She dutifully stayed still as Sigrid swiped something over her cut, then added, “No, but I made sure my Fíli always did.”

 

Sigrid wanted to laugh, or smile, or something, but she just couldn’t make her face cooperate.  “How is he?” she whispered, afraid of the answer.  She hadn’t seen him, but surely Dís would have said something by now if he’d have died… right?

 

Dís frowned.  “He and and his brother were separated from me on the first day of the battle, and Thorin asked me to bring up the rear on our way home.  I know he rode home in the supply cart, because his pony was tied up to the back of Dwalin’s saddle.  But I haven’t seen him since that day.”  

 

“Well,” Sigrd began, wrenching her features into a smile.  “Now you’re set to go, and I’m sure that by the time you get all freshened up, I’ll have found him and can knock some sense into him.  How does that sound?”

 

Dís smiled back and nodded, sliding off the table and putting her arm back into her shirt.  “Thank you for patching me up, Sigrid.  It’s a blessing to have such a skilled healer for a daughter!”

 

She bent down to kiss her cheek.  Dís was being so kind, but it still seemed a bit soon to Sigrid to be calling her _Mother._  Surely she would understand.  “Thank you, Lady Dís.  You’re being so gracious.  I’ll see you soon, hm?, and I’ll bring your son.”

 

When her mother-by-marriage left, Sigrid continued working, completely losing track of time as she helped Dwarf after Dwarf with everything from the smallest bandage to minor amputations.  Óin had returned at some point, and they worked together for what had to have been hours.  She had just finished tying off her millionth bandage when she turned her back to the rest of the room and leaned her head and elbows on the medicine rack.  Her back popped and stretched with the action and she groaned.  How long had she been working?  Did Fíli know she was down here?  Was he even awake?  She hated to leave the hospital when there were still Dwarves who needed her help, but now that she’d taken a moment to think she felt the panic rise, a thick lump in her throat.  She tried to take a deep breath but it was shuddery, her throat tightening painfully..  

 

“Sigrid?”

 

The voice barely broke through the chatter of patients, and she took one more moment to get her breathing under control before she stood back upright and painted her smile back on.  “Yes?”

 

Kíli stood before her, face drawn, though he too put on a smile for her.  “Ah, aren’t you a sight.”

 

Sigrid looked quizzically at him, then around the room.  “Kíli,” she began quietly.  “Where is my husband?”

 

“What, no hello for your dearest brother-by-marriage?” he teased weakly.  He sounded tired, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  
She strode into his space, arms crossed and face stern.  “Kíli.   _Where is my husband,”_ she demanded, hissing through her teeth.  “Your _mother_ didn’t even know!”

 

“Come with me,” he sighed, leading her out of the hospital and away from the crowds.  “Now don’t panic,” Kíli hedged.

 

“Don’t panic? _Don’t panic?_  What happened to him, Ki?”

 

“This sounds like panicking,” he groaned.  “He’s fine.  Mostly.  But the damned fool couldn’t take it easy or anything so he helped everyone put the ponies and weapons away and now he has a headache to beat all.  I told him right when we got here that he should just go straight to bed but…” Kíli shrugged.  “He’s got his bell rung so he isn’t exactly in tip top decision-making shape.  We all took turns making sure he didn’t sleep for too long at first, don’t worry, but it’s been almost a week now.  I was hoping you could talk to him, make sure he gets a full night’s rest now we’re home, and someone told me you’d be in the hospital, so...”

 

“‘He’s got his bell rung,’” Sigrid echoed.

 

“Aye, and a few cracked ribs, so he really should be taking it eas-- _Ow!”_

 

She smacked him hard in the chest, then again in the right shoulder, then the left.   _“Fuck_ you, Kíli!  Why didn’t you think you should _lead_ with that?  Why didn’t you get him down to hospital?  Why-- why didn’t he come find me?”  Sigrid blinked back her angry tears, shoving Kíli one last time.

 

He raised his arms defensively.  “Come on, Sig, let up!  I sent Fi up to your rooms.  He doesn’t need to go to the hospital, he needs to take a bath and nap for about three days straight.  He’s had worse.”

 

Sigrid glared.  

 

“All right, I get it,” Kíli lowered his arms and huffed a sigh.  “Well now you know about as much as I know.  I’m going to go now and try to recover from this grievous attack you have leveled upon me.”

 

“Oh shut it,” she grouched, pulling him in roughly for a hug.  As upset as she was at how Kíli had handled the whole thing, she was still glad to see him in one piece.  When he let go of her, she hurried down the steps back into the hospital, filled her apron pockets with supplies, and bid goodbye to Óin.  Then she rushed back up to her rooms as fast as she could.  Of course a week ago this trip had taken no time at all, but now that Fíli was at the end of it, she couldn’t run fast enough.  The slippers she wore were too soft and she skidded through her turn into the living quarters, slid off a step up to their rooms, until finally, _finally_ she was at her door.  She burst into the antechamber, calling Fíli’s name.

 

“Sig?” he answered groggily, coming to the doorway in the bathroom.  He stood in just his breeches, one arm cradled around his torso which was clumsily wrapped in bandages.  Fíli was dirty, his hair matted, and one side of his face was scratched up badly.  His right eye was nearly swollen shut.

 

“Oh, Fíli, what happened to you?” Sigrid sighed, voice breaking, as she closed the distance between them to hug him gingerly.  All the angry hurt she had felt that he hadn’t come straight to her disappeared at the sight of him.

 

His free hand wrapped around her waist and he rested his face against her chest.  His muffled reply came quietly, “A mace.  And a rock.  And then a bunch of little rocks.”

 

Tears filled her eyes and she tried to swallow past the painful lump in her throat.  Sigrid lowered her forehead to rest on the top of his head and let her tears fall into his filthy hair.  Her attempts to stay still and strong for him proved hopeless as sobs racked through her.   “Oh gods, Fi…”  Her fingers stroked over the matts in his hair, skirted over the damage to his face, and eventually she got herself under control.  With a deep breath, she stepped back and raised his chin, turning his head back and forth so she could better examine the damage to his face.  “Well you’re uglier than when you left,” she tutted weakly.

 

“‘S that a deal-breaker?” He mumbled, trying to smile cheekily at her but mostly failing.  “I still have other… talents.”

 

“Pfff, not like that you don’t.”  Sigrid steered him back into the bathroom and tugged on his breeches with a quiet sniffle.  “Get these off.”

 

“You really missed me that much?”  Fíli shucked his breeches off and stepped out of them.

 

“I really want to get you in the bath, because you smell like a barn.  And I want to look under the bandages, because they look like you put them on yourself.  Let’s get those off.”  They both were silent as she worked steadily, rolling the cloth back up into a ball.  He was heavily bruised up his side and on his knees and elbows, but when he was still he was breathing fine.  “Well it did a number on you, didn’t it,” she sighed.  “Now go on, get in the warm water, it will feel good.”

 

“Will you come in with me?”  His voice was small, now, and it occurred to Sigrid that Fíli was only just now turning off the bravado he’d been performing since the moment he’d left the Great Hall a fortnight ago.  And she’d gone and lost it on him the second she saw him.  Valar help her, but she wasn’t strong at all, was she?

 

“Aye, I will, love,” she murmured, undressing quickly.  She took his hand and together they slipped into the tub, Fíli hissing as he sunk down to let the water cover his chest.  Sigrid shushed him gently and lathered up a soft cloth with lavender and vanilla scented soap.  “Kíli told me you cracked your ribs?  I think he’s right.”

 

“Mm,” he answered sleepily.  Several moments later he added, “Think I have a concussion too.”  

 

Sigrid rubbed the cloth over his back, and gently raised his arms to scrub away the sweat, all the while skirting gently over the bruises.  “Probably so,” she sighed, tapping his arm to get him to turn.  She rinsed the cloth out and started cleaning the wounds on his face gingerly.  Then, handing him the cloth, she added, “Go on, you can handle cleaning the rest of you.  I need to get to work on this hair and I don’t need you getting distracted by my hands on your cock.”

 

“Ah, pretty Sigrid, what makes me think your hands in my hair will be any less distracting?”

 

“The last thing I need is sass from you, Fíli Durinsson,” she retorted.  “Fifteen days and no letter, by raven nor rider, and then the whole host returns with no damned sight of you.  I have to hear from your brother, _hours later_ , that you’ve been injured?”  She grabbed a cup waiting nearby, filled it with bathwater, and dumped it on his head.  

 

Fíli sputtered as the water ran over his face.  “You weren’t in the Hall!”

 

“I absolutely was, right up until I went to work with Master Óin.  Plenty saw me go, and plenty went with me.  And you should have done too, Mr. I’m Too Good For a Hospital. But _no --”_  She dumped another cup of water on his head to cut off another round of protests, “--you keep working for hours and hours, then just waltz right up to bed and your brother has to come tell me you’re even alive.  Your mother didn’t even know!  You’ll need to see her right away tomorrow, you know that right?”  She set the cup aside and started working some soap through his hair, muttering,  “Valar, you’re filthy, look at this.  Knots everywhere.”

 

“Sig, I’m sorry,” Fíli answered quietly, letting his head loll back under her fingers.  “I was so exhausted, I couldn’t bear to see another soul that wasn’t you.  The idea of talking to even one more person made me want to vomit.  But I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

 

Staying silent, she rinsed out his hair and grabbed a bottle of oil and a comb to work through the matts.  She freed the courting and marriage braids, tucked the beads away on the floor outside the tub, and picked methodically at the knots.  

 

 _“Ughmm,_ that feels good,”  Fíli groaned. “I do mean it, Sigrid.  I’m sorry I made you worry.  But I’m all right, we’re fine now.  I’m here.”

 

“I know,” she whispered.  After several minutes she was finally able to pull the comb through his hair without hitting any snags.  “All right, let’s get you to bed.  Even princes need to sleep off their injuries.”  

 

He took her hand and followed her somewhat unsteadily out of the tub, but took the towel out of her hand when she tried to dry him off.  “I got a little banged up, darling, I’m not on my deathbed,” he chuckled, drying his hair a little bit before bending down to run the towel over his legs.  He couldn’t hide the hiss of pain as he did so though, and Sigrid frowned.

 

No, he was not on his deathbed, and a good thing that was.  Her body had missed him as well as her heart, and she couldn’t help but gape at him.  Sitting in the tub with his naked body between her legs had been...pleasant, even if it was for practical purposes.  But that would have to wait.  He was clearly exhausted, and needed rest, and she was tired as well from working all day.  She bent over to wrap her hair in the towel to dry, but as she righted herself she felt his hands circle her waist.  He pressed the entire length of his body against her back and she leaned into the touch.  

 

“I missed you so much, pretty Sigrid,” he murmured sleepily in her ear.

 

“I missed you too, love.  So much.  But you need to get some rest.  You sound like you’re falling asleep back there.”

 

He let his hands fall loose around her and walked with her to the bed.  Smiling as she pulled the covers back for him, he lay down and gestured for her to follow.

 

Sigrid lay with her head on his shoulder, trying to avoid any bruised areas.  She doodled her fingers around in his chest hair and down to his arms to trace _yet another_ new scar.  Someday, she hoped, he’d stop collecting these.  She was sure Fíli was drifting off until he took a breath and asked, “So, you’re back in the hospital, just like old times.”

 

“Aye.  Sounds like you Dwarves are always getting into something, even if there isn’t a war on, so someone’s got to make sure you can survive it.”  

 

“It’s a good place for a princess.  A good place for you.”

 

“Glad you think so,” she laughed, “though I didn’t think I needed your approval.”

 

“No,” Fíli smiled.  “Of course not.  Dwarves will sing of their noble Human Queen, who met her dashing husband in the most dire of circumstances!  Nothing so clean and orderly as the hospital of Erebor, oh no.  A frantic triage center on a battlefield.  I was mostly dead, and the comely queen was covered in mud and bile and blood.”

 

 _“Other people’s_ bile and blood!”

 

“Ah yes, fair point, well made.”

 

Sigrid giggled.  “You missed me today.  I tossed away a couple fingers and toes.”

 

“Ah, Vidar?”

 

“No, shockingly she got to keep all hers.”

 

“Ah, good, good…”

 

“She is amazing,” she breathed.  “Your mother too, she was there.  She’ll be fine; an arrow struck through her arm but it was a clean shot and she took good care of it.  And finished the battle and rode all the way home after!”  After a moment she added,  “Do you ever wish I was more like them?  A fighter, I mean.”  Sigrid wore a worried frown, and didn’t meet his eyes.

 

“What?  Sigrid, you _are_ a fighter--”

 

“--Don’t get all metaphorical on me,” she interrupted.

 

“Sigrid please,” he sighed, taking her chin in his hand.  “I mean it.  You fought to keep your family alive when your Ma died, you literally fought Orcs in your dining room in Lake Town, you fought Thorin for a fair treaty for Dale.  Just because you’ve never killed anyone doesn’t mean you aren’t a fighter, all right, don’t ever say that.”  He paused, smiling reassuringly.  “You’re kind, and smart, and fierce, and funny, and beautiful, and you see the world in an entirely different way.  I never wanted to marry Vidar.  I never wanted a copy of my mother.  I wanted you.  I’m glad I married you.  Got it?”

 

“Got it.”  A small smile crossed her lips and she nodded.  “I’m glad too.”  She leaned up and kissed him, then settled back in the crook of his arm.  “Did everything go well, though? You won’t have to go out and do this all over again a month from now, right?’

 

Fíli’s face brightened, reminiscing.  “Aye, it was about as perfect an outcome as one could hope for.  The Elves came in on both flanks, Men took the long way ‘round and came up behind on the Angmar side, then us up front.  The Orcs were completely cut off; even though they saw us coming I don’t think they expected the Men, and they couldn’t retreat.  They’re completely wiped out, and we sustained only minor casualties.  Those who died feast with Mahal for ever, and my wife did such work that those injured shall live to fight again!  What more could I wish?”

 

A quiet moment passed where she let him revel in the memory while she considered how to say what weighed on her mind.  “You know, I was thinking, actually…” Sigrid hedged, back to toying with the blond curls between his pecs.  “You never did show me how to use the knife you gave me.  I panicked that day on the Mountain, couldn’t get it in my hand fast enough…” She paused, suddenly nervous to ask, but Fíli waited patiently until the silence discomfited her into finishing her sentence.

 

“If I got better with a weapon, I could come with you-- Not to fight but, you know, if you wanted to set up a field hospital instead of trucking your wounded all the way back to the Mountain barely patched up…Óin’s not getting any younger, and I know it’s not unusual for Dwarf couples to fight together, and this could, well, I’ll never be a warrior, but this could be _our_ way…?”  

 

Sigrid focused intently on a spot on the wall just above Fíli’s chest, resolutely avoiding eye contact.  She couldn’t bear it if he ended up thinking her stupid.  It probably was a stupid idea, Dwarves trained their entire lives to be able to go out and fight their battles; she was more than a little late to the party.

 

“Really?”

 

“Y-yes?”  Oh Valar, what was he thinking?  One word was not enough to tell, so she hazarded a look.

 

Fíli was beaming.  “I think that’s an excellent idea!  Not that I anticipate more battles to fight in any near future, but, well, it will certainly bring peace of mind as we travel.  We can get started in the morning!”

 

“Absolutely not.  You have cracked ribs and a concussion, are you mad?”

 

“Madly in love,” he cooed back with a goofy grin.

 

“Yeah, all right, well, me too.”  

 

He rolled onto his side and kissed her softly.  “I mean it.  I’m madly in love with you.  And I have been for, well, I don’t even know how long.  I never told you how terrified I was when I thought I’d lost you over that stupid contract.”  Fíli kissed her again and pressed his forehead to hers.  “There’s still a lot of work to do but there’s no one I’d rather do it with than you.  I love you, I want to keep loving you forever.”

 

Sigrid snuggled in closer to him with a contented sigh.  It occurred to her, as she slowly drifted to sleep, how unexpected it was that after Lake Town, and after Dale, a far off Mountain and the arms of a Dwarfish prince would feel so much like home.  Sigrid closed her eyes and breathed him in.  “Forever sounds pretty good to me, too.”  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly done! Just an epilogue to go, but I decided to post it separately on Friday. I think it will work nicely that way. Thanks for understanding! <3


	16. Perfect - Epilogue

Sigrid pushed her plate away with a groan and leaned back from the table.

  


“Quitting so soon, Sigrid?”  Kíli teased through a mouthful of food, nudging her with his shoulder.  “But it’s so early in the day!”

  


“There’s no way I could eat another bite!” she moaned, rubbing her stomach.  “It was wonderful but I’m absolutely stuffed.”

  


Fíli reached over and plucked the remains of her toast from the plate.  “More for me, then.”

  


“Oh leave the lass alone,” Dís scolded, throwing an arm around her from her other side.  “Don’t you be ganging up on her now I’m leaving.”

  


_“Thank you,_ Lady Dís,” Sigrid said pointedly.  “I don’t know how I’m going to deal with both these boys on my own.  Are you sure you have to go?”

  


Dís sighed.  “Unfortunately I must.  We got snow a few days ago on our way back to Erebor, and the weather will only get worse.  Winter’s on its way.  There’s enough of us that we’ll be moving slowly, and I’d not much like to sleep outside in the frost for long.”

  


“Of course, of course,” Sigrid nodded, then sighed dramatically with her face in her hands.  “I’ll find a way to cope.”

  


“Well, you know,” Dís leaned in and whispered in Sigrid’s ear.  “The blond one’s always been ticklish behind the knee, and if you pinch Kíli right where his neck meets his shoulder, he’ll shriek like a stuck pig.”

  


Fíli frowned as his mother whispered to his giggling wife.  “I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all.”

  


“Hush, you.  I just don’t want to leave your lady wife unarmed.  Oh!  Speaking of--” she reached under the table for a bag, holding her mustache braids and beard out of the way of the breakfast dishes as she did so.  “I never gave you your wedding gift, Sigrid.”

  


“Ooh! What is it?” Kíli cooed, peeking under the table and following his mother back up.

  


“Oh, Dís, you shouldn’t have,” Sigrid protested, cheeks tinging pink.  “It’s more than enough you coming all the way up here, then staying to fight--”

  


“Psh, don’t be silly,” she tutted, digging in the back and producing a rolled up piece of leather, tied with a thong.  “It’s tradition.  To welcome you into our family.  So, welcome!”

  


Sigrid took it from her gingerly and moved her dishes out of the way, then unrolled the soft leather on the table.  Inside were sheathed five small knives with short, undecorated hilts.  She pulled one out and gasped.  “This hardly weighs anything!”

  


“Mother,” Fíli breathed, delighted.  “They’re perfect!”  Seeing Sigrid’s hesitation to comment further, he added, “Now you have the dagger I gave you, and these knives to throw.  Every Dwarf should carry something for both ranged and close combat.  Now you’re set!”

  


“Mother,”  Kíli butted in, “these are gorgeous and I’m very jealous.  When do I get mine?”

  


“If you want some you can very well make your own,” she retorted, closing her bag.  “You’ve already been in my family for _quite_ some time, I’ve no need to welcome you.”

  


Sigrid cut off the family banter by throwing her arms around Dís’ neck.  “Thank you, so much.  They’re wonderful, I can’t wait to learn how to use them.”

  


Fíli smiled to see them already so close.  His mother had always been fairly easy-going, always prepared to see the best in people of all shapes and sizes, so he hadn’t really worried they’d get along.  But it was one thing to think _Oh, my mother will love you_ and another to see it in action.  The way they were going on, he wouldn’t be surprised if she received more letters from Dís than he did from now on.

  


“Sister,” Thorin’s voice called from the doorway.  He was wearing what Sigrid had come to call his “Outfit for Affairs of State”:  The raven crown, a long, dark robe with the golden ray accents synonymous with the Line of Durin, and Orcrist belted around his waist.

  


“Ah, it’s time,” she said, bumping her forehead against Sigrid’s before she pulled away and rose from the table.  Fíli, Sigrid, and Kíli followed her across the room to meet Thorin, and they all went out to the Great Hall where the other Dwarves from the Blue Mountains were waiting to take off.  A ram stood patiently without his rider at the head of the group, saddled up and laden down with weapons, armor, and other supplies, and Dís led everyone over.  She turned and bounced on her heels.

  


“Brother, it was so good to ride out to battle with you again,” she sighed, embracing him warmly.  “You take care of my sons now, you hear?  Don’t let them fall idle, you’ve seen what happens.”

  


“Mother!” Kíli complained quietly, though he had no further defense for himself.

  


A rare smile graced Thorin’s features as he hugged her back.  “That I do, sister.  Fíli will have a lot of work to do with me in the coming months.  No one’s quite ready for winter.”

  


Sigrid glanced at Fíli who looked pleasantly surprised.  She knew Thorin was not quick to praise with words, but to have Fíli work alongside him was quite the vote of confidence.  This was only confirmed by Dís’ shining eyes.

  


Fíli cleared his throat and teased, “Kíli on the other hand…”

  


“You know what--” Kíli’s protests died off as he noticed Tauriel approaching from the living quarters.  He brightened considerably and rushed over to her to take her hand.  

  


“Lady Dís,” she smiled, “I’m sad to see you go so soon.”

  


“Oh, Tauriel, I wish I could stay too!” she answered brightly.  “It was wonderful to get to know you on the road, and to battle beside you was a real honor.  You’ve cultivated a considerable skill over the years.”

  


Tauriel looked down a moment, hiding the smile she couldn’t keep off her face.  Kíli gazed up at her like she was his whole world.  Thorin merely sighed, uncomfortable.

  


Sigrid grinned, nudging Fíli gently with her elbow.  Kíli and Tauriel fit together so well and they were completely smitten with each other.  It was good to see, too, that Sigrid wasn’t the only one flustered by Dís’ effusive nature.  It was clear where Kíli got his romanticism.

  


“Thank you, Lady Dís,” Tauriel said finally.  She leaned down and kissed the Dwarf on both cheeks, a feat which, given Dís was even shorter than Kíli, had her bent almost in half.  

  


Dís just smiled and gestured for Sigrid to do the same.  Then Kíli had his turn.  She squeezed him tightly, promising,  “I’ll be back for your birthday, son.”  

  


“Can’t wait,” Kíli answered cheerily.  He gave her one last kiss on her cheek, then stepped back and Fíli took his place.  

  


“G’bye, Mum,” he murmured a little glumly, kissing her cheek as well.

  


No tight hug for him, considering his injuries, but Dís took his face between her hands and rubbed a thumb under his still-bruised eye.  “Oh, son,” she breathed, “how you look like your father right now.”  She shook her head and _tsk_ ed.  ”He, too, always managed to mess his face up in every skirmish.  You look out for your lady wife now.  I expect that by the time I return she’ll be able to use those gifts.  They’re not just for setting on a shelf!”

  


“I will,” he nodded, voice thick.  “We’ll get right to work.”

  


“Promise,” Sigrid added.  “I’ll work hard.”

  


“As if you know any other way.”  Dís winked at her and mounted her battle ram in one smooth movement.  “All right, my dears, we’ll be on our way now.  I’ll write you when we land in the Blue Mountains.”  With that, she kicked her feet and the ram jerked into forward motion, setting off a wave of other rams, ponies, and boars that made up the rest of the Blue Mountain party.  

  


Sigrid stood with her arm around Fíli, watching them leave.  Thorin left as soon as the last Dwarf of the party had made it out the doors, and Kíli and Tauriel left soon after, muttering some excuse or another.  But Sigrid stayed with Fíli as long as they could see the little dots of Dwarves travelling across the plains.  

  


When they finally faded from view, Fíli took her hand and kissed it.  “My mother loves you very much.”

  


“Seems your mother has a lot of love to give,” she responded quietly.  Leading him deeper into the Mountain she added, “Besides, why shouldn’t she love me?  I’m a delight.”

  


Fíli snorted and put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.  “Sure you are.”

  


~*~

  


Sigrid stood with her shoulders square, facing the target thirty feet ahead of her.   Her eyes flit around the room.  Was anyone watching her?  There were several Dwarves working in the armory, sharpening blades, fletching arrows, or practicing.  A few glanced her way and she slumped.

  


“Focus, Sig.”  Fíli’s voice came from her left.  “Everyone’s working on their own business; you don’t have an audience.”  When she pulled a face, he added, “Come on now, chin up. Shoulders back.”

  


She followed his orders, turning her toes in the dirt.  Her arms hung loose at her sides, and she fluttered her fingers as she waited for his next direction.  It was a long time coming.  She was about to look and see what was wrong, but as her eyes moved, he barked, “Loose!”

  


Her hand slipped inside her vest, grabbed the small knife between her fingers, and whipped it towards the bullseye.  The hilt bounced lamely off the hay and clattered to the ground.  “Damn it!” she groaned.  “Come on!  I do just fine when the knife’s already in my hand, what’s the problem?”

  


“You just need practice, my sweet.  No one’s born knowing how to do this.”  He moved behind her and pulled her shoulders back gently.  “When you cross your body to grab your knife, you need to pull your arm all the way back again.  Saving yourself the split second means nothing if you hit him with the hilt.  Try again.  Focus on getting the motion right.  Then add the speed.  You can do it.”  He kissed the back of her neck and stepped away again.

  


She rolled her shoulders and shook her head sharply, trying to dislodge the niggling feeling that she was being watched.  A deep breath, and she fixed her eyes on the target.  

  


“Right foot back, Sig, but keep your hips square, remember?”

  


Ah yes.  She slid her foot back a bit and wiggled her fingers again.  She was going to get this right.

  


“Loose!”

  


Again, she slipped a hand into her vest, but this time made sure to pull her hand up to her ear, elbow up, then released the knife, following through so far she had to pick up her back foot to keep balance.  Sigrid righted herself with a giggle, then raised her eyes to the target.  The knife stuck solidly in the hay, outside the paper target completely.  But it stuck.

  


_“Yes!”_ she whooped, jumping up and grinning.

  


“See? I knew you could do it,”  Fíli beamed at her as he clapped for her a few times.  “Now do it again.  See if you hit the paper this time.”

  


Sigrid retrieved her knives from the floor and the target, then went back to her mark to try again.  Over and over Fíli would call and she’d throw.  Sometimes they’d stick, sometimes they wouldn’t, but Fíli kept her alert, never falling into any rhythm.  

  


It was fun watching her; Fíli loved seeing the focus in her eyes, the self-confidence eking in every time a knife stuck in the hay.  She still needed work, of course.  Any warrior worth their salt could see her attack coming from a mile away, and the knife fell to the floor as often as it stuck.  But she had good instincts, and drive, and a grace that lent itself to the skill.  After about a half hour, though, Sigrid’s arm was weakening and her technique was suffering.  

  


“All right, love, that’s enough for today.  You don’t do yourself any favors practicing tired and sloppy.”  He hopped to his feet with a wince.  Weeks later his core still ached whenever he moved too quickly, stretched the wrong way, or Mahal forbid it, laugh.  Of course Kíli took advantage of this at every opportunity, jumping around corners, telling the worst jokes he could think of, and generally doing his best to walk the razor’s edge between “helping keep Fíli in good spirits” and “being bloody annoying.”  At least he was in the forge today, so Fíli got a few hours’ break.

  


He moved to the target and pulled the three knives out of the hay as Sigrid retrieved the leather she wrapped them in.  

  


“Ah, ah, ah!” she called as he gingerly bent to pick up the ones on the floor.  “Don’t you even think about it, Master Dwarf.” Sigrid rushed to his side and swatted his shoulder before bending down to retrieve them herself.  “I swear, you’ll never heal if you keep pushing yourself.  It’s Tilda’s birthday in two weeks and we need to be able to ride down to Dale, but I’m not thrilled about your progress so far…”  She frowned, worrying the strings on the leather-wrapped knives.

  


Now it was Fíli’s turn to glance around the armory.  “Hey, let’s go upstairs, hm?  Get a bath and you can take a closer look at me, how does that sound?”  He waggled his eyebrows and took her elbow to lead her towards the living quarters.

  


“I swear to-- You are incorrigible,” she groaned, but followed him out to the hallway.

  


“Trust me,” he continued quietly, “if I could just magically be better I would.  There’s quite a lot I’d like to be able to do and I can’t.  But I’ve come back from worse, you know that.”

  


“Aye, but I wish I didn’t,” Sigrid answered.  She slipped the knives under her arm and took his hand.  

  


He squeezed it gently.  “Before, it was much easier to sit in bed and wait for the pain to go away.  Now I have you, and as you refuse to sit in bed all day _with me--”_

  


“Now that’s not fair.  I have work to do!  Óin can’t do everything himself.  There are still patients to see and all our supplies are low again now--”

  


Fíli chuckled and squeezed her hand again.  “Hush now, I was just teasing!  Things are just different now, that’s all I was saying.  I will heal.  It will be all right.”

  


They continued in silence to their rooms but once the door was closed behind them Sigrid was all business again.  “Off with your shirt.”  She hadn’t had the chance to look at him this morning and she was eager to examine the progress of his bruising.  He’d left early that morning for some council or another, and he’d let her sleep right through it.

  


The bruising across his torso had diminished significantly compared to his first day back, yellow on the edges and brown in the center of it, on his side.  “This bruising on the surface will probably be all gone by this time next week,” she murmured, pressing gently just above and just below the dark blotches.  “How does that feel?”

  


“Fine.”

  


She pressed as hard as she dared.  “Now?”

  


“Fine, Sig.  It’s just under the bruising that hurts these days, and only when I really push it.”

  


“All right,” she breathed, and crossed the room to sit on the bed.  “I’m sorry, I know I’m being unreasonable, I just hate that there’s nothing I can really do.”

  


He sat beside her and she leaned into his shoulder.  The solid heat reassured her more than any words ever could.  It had been torture watching him go so soon.  They hadn’t even gotten used to sleeping in the same bed, and off he’d gone, and she’d been alone again.  But now he was back, and whole, and she hardly let him out of her sight if she could help it.  

  


“Let’s just stay in bed the rest of the day,” she suggested quietly.  “Forget all the stuff we have to do, forget all the people we have to see, just stay with me.”

  


“Oh, pretty Sigrid, you don’t have to ask me twice,”  Fíli smiled, kissing her neck.  “You have a lot to be proud of, you know.  You’re making good progress with the knives, and you’re taking great care of the sick and injured here.  Óin takes every opportunity to sing your praises, and you know how much that says.  Mother loves you, too.  I think she misses you more than me!”

  


Sigrid smiled.  “Yes, I got a letter from her today, actually.”

  


Fíli groaned.  “I knew this would happen.  She thinks we don’t tell her the whole story, but that you’ll tell her the truth about how we’re doing.”

  


“Well…” she shrugged.  “I don’t mind at all.  I think it’s nice.  Now here, come lay with me.”  She crawled up to the head of the bed and lay on her side, facing the window Fíli had made for her.  The sky was grey, and thick snow flakes were starting to fall, collecting on the ledge outside the glass.

  


He pressed up against her back and draped an arm over her.  He doodled patterns into her stomach, dropped gentle kisses onto her neck and shoulder, nuzzled into her hair.  “I like the curtain you put over the window,” he murmured after a moment.  “It’s perfect.”

  


Sigrid huffed a laugh.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice how little sleep you get with that sunlight coming in.  But thank you.  I’m glad you like it.”

  


“Are you happy, Sig?”  His voice came quieter, more hesitant than he’d hoped, but he had to hear her say it.  Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she would be happy here, with him.

  


“Oh Fi, you know I am.  I’m still getting used to...everything, the way Dwarves do things, you know?  Living under a mountain with a bunch of people all together, not in a house with just my siblings and my da.  Working in a hospital.  Being married to royalty.   _Being married…”_  Sigrid blushed and snuggled closer to him.  “But then I get you to myself for a little while, and it’s just so… _perfect.”_  

  


He hummed in agreement, letting his fingers trail under the hem of her vest.  “Sure feels perfect,” he replied.

  


Sigrid turned to lay on her back, then reached up to the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss.  Her mouth tasted as sweet as the first time he’d kissed her, and he reached down to undo the belt keeping her vest closed.  She let him push the fabric over one shoulder, then the other, leaving her in just an oversized, thin shirt.

  


Fíli broke away to look at her for a moment.  Her hair was falling out of the comb he’d given her for her birthday and lay on the pillow around her head in a sort of halo.  Her lips were already flushed from his attention, curved into a shy smile.  He returned it, running a thumb over her exposed collarbone.  Mahal, was he blessed.  She was gorgeous, and she was his.

  


“What?”  Sigrid asked, self-conscious at his pause.  

  


“Nothing,” he answered as he went back to work to show her just how much he loved her.  “It’s just… Perfect.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my lovely betas: 
> 
> [snarkymonkey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey) also known on tumblr as [Dek-Says-So](http://dek-says-so.tumblr.com/), who blazed through this thing and whipped it into shape, sharing with me her experience and expertise, reassuring my gut instincts, and catching every little misplaced capital letter like an absolute champ. 
> 
> [coraregina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coraregina) (on AO3 as well as tumblr), who enthusiastically agreed to help on my first chapters, despite the fact that I don’t think we’d ever said two words to each other before I came into her ask box, requesting her time and energy.
> 
> And to my lovely cheerleader, [themcgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themcgeek) (on AO3 as well as tumblr), who was there from Day One and let me whine about how Writing Is Hard over and over again, who encouraged me (or gave me a pass) when I needed it, and never once made fun of my tiny lil ship. 
> 
> Many thanks also to my brother, who gave the best parts of himself to my characterization of Bain, recc’d this out to his friends in the Tolkein fandom(?!?!), and who I desperately hope did not actually read the smutty bits. 
> 
> And finally, a thousand thousand thanks shall be to all of you, who left me lovely comments on every chapter, reblogged my silly tumblr post every week, and pressed that kudos button. Even if you didn’t do one or any of those things, I really appreciate you reading this thing, that started out as a couple of drabbles and ended up at over 73,000 words. You have made this project so much more fun than I thought it could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/128047289034/cersei-the-truth-bombardier-never-did-run). Updates Tuesdays and Fridays. Subscribe here or follow on Tumblr to make sure you don't miss it!


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